


Cerulean Cats

by lilacSkye



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Byleth is totes a cat person, Comedy, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Humor, Magic Mishaps, Misunderstandings, Multi, OOC, Sothis is sarcastic and a dog person, The Crests are to blame, This Is STUPID, Timeline What Timeline, Updates will be irregular, headcanons galore, lore is being tweaked a little bit to make sense of things, other relationship and character tags to be added, tags to be updated as the story progresses, the ultimate fight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 07:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacSkye/pseuds/lilacSkye
Summary: When a mysterious accident causes Marianne to fall unconcious and Dimitri to vanish into thin air, life at the Monastery turns upside down. It is up to Byleth to get to the bottom of this mess and rescue the missing Prince before it is too late.On a side note, this adorable new kitty with golden fur and eyes too blue for its own good just won't leave her alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you guessed it. It's Shape Shifter AU time!! The most stupid ever made!! Good job, me! /Sarcasm
> 
> Anyhow, I'm in full writer's block at the moment, but this idea has been haunting me for days on end, so here it is, in all its mediocrity. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Will probably be gen for the most part, Dimileth if you squint (sorry if that's not your cup of tea, I'm Dimileth trash).

Stable duty.

It was a simple task, humble, one that perhaps a few of his peers would deem far below their noble station - the young heir of House Gloucester of the Alliance came to mind - but Dimitri was not ashamed to admit he thoroughly enjoyed it. The simplicity of it, of the rhythmic brushing and feeding and sweeping, was somewhat soothing to his frayed nerves, and more often than not it brought forth comfort even when an intense training session could not exhaust him enough to earn him a dreamless nights.

With a soft smile, perhaps a little amused at the thought of what would all the spoiled and prissy nobles that filled his uncle's court would say if they were to know the Crown Prince enjoyed partaking in such an activity, he approached the stables gates and pushed it open, expecting it to be long since empty.

Only to find it really wasn't.

"Marianne?"

The girl in question startled rather violently, nearly toppling down the short stepladder she had climbed to better reach the warhorse whose back she had been lovingly brushing and cleaning until Dimitri barged in. She managed to catch herself on time, but her brush fell to the ground with a soft clutter.

"Oh! Dimitri… Good evening…" she said, so quiet he nearly didn't catch it. In the dimming twilight, the heavy shadows around her eyes appeared even deeper and darker than usual. "You may leave if you please… I am almost finished here anyway."

So it would seem, he thoughts as his eyes flitted to the full troughs and neat stacks of fresh hay. A wave of guilt washed over him.

"Why didn't you call for me? I would have gladly lent a hand. It must have taken you hours to clean this place alone."

She smiled, in that soft and unbearably sad way of hers. "It's quite alright, really. I like doing this… the company of animals and beasts is fitting and comforting for someone like me..." She trailed off, her smile dying out as her eyes widened ever so slightly. "You should _really_ leave now, Dimitri, before… something terrible happens…"

"Marianne? Are you al-"

All of a sudden, the horse she was tending to gave a frightening whinny and reared on its hind legs, drowning off Dimitri's inquiry. He could only watch, horrified, as its front hooves hovered dangerously close to Marianne's forehead as the girl ducked down with a shrill yelp, just in time to avoid being bludgeoned to what might have been a horrible death.

However, in doing so, Marianne lost her balance. The stepladder toppled over and, without any form of support now that the horse had turned tail and hastily fled the scene, the girl was now plummeting down, arms splayed open and flailing uselessly at her sides.

His body was moving before he could think twice, lunging forward and closing the distance between them in a few, long strides. He extended an arm and made to hook it around Marianne's waist, his Crest activating and strength flooding his body to better offer support and purchase for the girl's falling form, lest they both fall into a graceless heap on the stable floor. Instances like this were the few times he was actively glad to be blessed with the ever so troublesome Crest of Blaiddyd.

However, he saw Marianne's face contort in horror, as though the prospect of being caught and spared a possible injury was the most daunting prospect of the two, mouth agape and poised to scream as she limply fell on him, her arms coiling around his neck and shoulders as the soft, blue glow of his Crest enveloped both their forms…

"_NO! Don't…_!!"

Her ungloved hand brushed against the bare skin on the nape of his neck, and he barely had time to marvel at how searingly warm her hands were before a flash blinded him and all strength left his body all at once, and now he too was falling, dark blue bleeding into his vision until it was all he could make out...

* * *

The first thing Dimitri noticed upon regaining consciousness was the feeling of something soft and heavy pressing down on him from above. The second was that everything had gone completely dark.

_What in the world-_

His whole body ached and burned, like it always did when he overdid his training and overexerted his Crest's power beyond his body's limits - which, much to Dedue's chagrin, wasn't that rare of an occurrence - and even simply breathing was proving to be quite the hassle. He needed to get out of whatever had fallen upon him and into o

With a huff, he shifted his weight, carefully testing and prodding his strangely stiff limbs until he managed to prop himself on all fours. Perhaps it was not the most dignified position, but it was a relief to find out he still retained enough strength to crawl out of whatever trouble had befallen him this time around. He'll rise to a fully standing position once he got in the clear air.

He sincerely hoped Marianne managed to escape this conundrum in time. Whatever this conundrum actually was.

Slowly, he set in motion, wobbling just ever so slightly and cringing when the heavy fabric trapping him brushed the wrong way against his back. It sent a most strange, uncomfortable tingle along his spine, like nails being dragged against his scalp, and he had to stop and hiss a couple of times when the feeling grew too unbearable. 

At last, a whiff of fresh air hit his face. He chased it, pushing through the thick layers obstructing his view with his head and shoulders, until a small gap appeared. He squeezed through, not without some difficulty, and finally stepped out.

Had he not been distracted by the sight of Marianne laying unconscious on the stable floor, a thin stream of blood trickling down her temple and pooling where her cheeks was pressed against the ground, he probably would have noticed the familiar blue cape he had just wiggled out of.

As it was though, all concerns for his predicament had flewn out of the window the moment his eyes landed on Marianne's still form.

He bounded over, heart hammering wildly against his ribcage. What the hell had happened? Had they both fallen over, then? Was she injured? Her breath appeared steady enough, but the trail of blood caught his attention and sparked a new wave of terror in his gut. He needed to get her to the infirmary, and fast.

Although… was it just him, or Marianne had somehow swelled in size…?

A sudden wave of dread filled him. He was still on all fours and, even worse, he was perfectly comfortable. In response to his growing distress, something behind his back swished back and forth.

He opened his mouth to speak.

"M-Ma…

_Meow?!?_"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, timeline is very vague, but it's all pre-time skip, after Flayn's kidnapping and before Jeralt's death. That's all there is to know lol

He was a cat.

He didn't have any means to check on his appearance and thus ascertain in full his conditions, but he was fairly sure of it nonetheless. Upon further inspections, he could see his arms - front legs, to be more accurate - were now covered in long and soft hair, just a shade paler than his own hair color, and though he could not see it, he could _feel_ the retractable claws rest within his fingers - _paws_, he corrected himself with a shudder - hidden from sight under tufts of sand-colored fur and pads of flesh.

Once again, he felt something tug at his lower back, demanding his attention. Right, he had a tail now. What an absolute _joy_, to have an extra appendage so easily reachable and exploitable. A shudder ran down his spine as he recalled how once a young child, an orphan the Church had taken in for shelter, had grabbed and pulled harshly at one of the cats that permanently roamed the Monastery, or how the cat had let out a loud hiss and attempted to slash at the offending hand in retaliation. The mere memory made him cringe and on instinct his now pointy ears flattened against his scalp.

Awkwardly, he focused his attention on the area and willed himself to move it. The fluffy tail swished smoothly and whipped wildly back and fro in response. It still felt so _foreign_, and yet there was no doubt it was part of his body. If anything, he had the feeling it was perhaps even _too_ sensitive for his tastes, if the aforementioned memory was anything to go by.

He was a _bloody cat_.

_Why?!?_

A low hiss escaped him as he felt the questions in his still dazed brain kept tumbling one upon another like a landslide and the first signs of an oncoming migraine, a feeling he was only too well acquainted with, made themselves known, veins pounding painfully against his temples and even more so now that his heartbeat had quickened its pace. Just the proverbial icing on the cake.

Still, rattled as he may be - he was _a cat_, for Sothis's sake!! - there was a far more pressing matter to attend to, so he shook his head, ears flapping loudly and limply against the sides of his scalp, and decided to channel his focus on Marianne.

He approached her, cautiously, recoiling ever so slightly when his now heightened sense of smell picked up the unmistakable tang of iron that could only belong to blood. Guilt and terror washing over him, this time completely unrelated to his situation, he placed a paw on her arm, taking extra care so his newly equipped claws didn't push out and tear her clothes and skin beneath.

"Meow? _Meow?!?_"

_Perfect_, he thought bitterly as the girl kept slumbering, just what he needed. Magically turned into a cat too small and weak to do anything to help Marianne _and_ unable to communicate. How in the world was he to get her the assistance she needed?!?

The stink of blood and the listless noises the other horses were making in response to the commotion were soon becoming too much to bear. He needed to get out and focus on catching someone's attention, and _fast_, before Marianne's simple concussion could turn into something far worse.

Luckily enough, it was still quite early in the evening, and if he remembered the daily schedule correctly, he knew a certain someone who could offer help would soon be passing by…

* * *

Byleth Eisner was not, by nature, the type of girl to grin to herself and to have a skip in her step, but if she were, she probably would have done so at the moment, as she made her way back to the Monastery. The day had turned out rather profitable, from the victory of her class in the afternoon to the full pail of golden fish currently hanging by the crook of her elbow, more than enough to ensure a delicious treat for the entire class tonight. That is, unless Flayn happened to be on kitchen duty. That would be… _regrettable_, so to speak.

_"Ugh, don't remind me,_ Sothis's disembodied voice groaned weakly in the back of her mind. _"I wish I could turn back time and forget Flayn's cooking ever happened to begin with. Talk about humanity's lowest point._"

Byleth snorted, though she managed to conceal her amusement under the guise of a strategically placed coughing fit. Although the steep road leading to the Monastery was sparsely travelled this late, it was not unusual for merchants and knights to still be up and about. She already had an unpleasant reputation as the Ashen Demon; she really didn't care to make it any worse and give people reason to fear her as a crazy lunatic who talked to mean ghosts within her head.

"Excuse me?!? _I'm no_ ghost _, I'll have you know! And I'm not mean, I'm just being objective!!_"

Byleth carefully glanced at her surroundings, relaxing only when she saw the vast expanse of road separating her from the nearest couple of guards. Still, caution was never enough, and she raised her fist to her face and pretended to clear her throat against it for good measure.

"She puts a lot of heart and effort in her dishes. She doesn't deserve this treatment." She whispered, careful to keep her voice as low as she could and moving her lips as little as possible. "Besides, she may not be the best chef in Fòdlan, but I'd argue she's not that bad once you… er… get a little used to her more experimental tastes."

Sothis huffed haughtily, like she always did when Byleth put her godly abilities and attitude in question. "_Oh, come on now, don't give me that rubbish. I told you, we are connected. I know you and your heart like my own. Incidentally, I'm also well acquainted with your stomach, and it told me it had an absolute horrid time last time Flayn was on cooking duty._"

Byleth grimaced: that was simply too true to deny it. Her only, meager defense was that she truly had tried her hardest, partially impressed and inspired by the sight of Dimitri just shovelling the atrocious burnt mess Flayn had concocted in his mouth with no hesitation or second thought until the plate was clean, but she was forced to admit defeat and retreat to her chambers after a handful of bites. Her whole mouth had felt on fire and ready to revolt.

"Fine," she reluctantly conceded, "You make a good point."

She could almost _see_ the smug triumph in Sothis's voice. "_As always._" the whimsical goddess singsang sweetly.

Byleth shook her head, but found her lips curling upwards in amusement nonetheless, just as she climbed the last step and set out towards the Monastery's gates. She smiled and nodded at the ever so gleeful and zealous Gatekeeper when he enthusiastically greeted her, claiming to have nothing to report.

She had nearly made it past the heavy double doors into the wide foray when suddenly something small and soft hit her ankles, and she glanced down just in time to see a cat had darted out of its hiding spot behind a nearby pillar and placed itself right in front of her, tripping her up.

"Hey!! Watch out!" Byleth exclaimed as she hastily planted a foot in front of her and regained her balance, even managing to save her precious bucketful of catch in the process. Jeralt would have never let her live it down as long as she drew breath if word reached him that she had let herself be bested by a mere stray cat and lost the entire dinner course due to a distraction.

The cat meowed loudly at her feet, completely still save for its swishing tail and utterly unfazed by the danger of having Byleth’s whole weight come crashing down on it. That unnatural recklessness and lack of concern for its own safety would be unnerving on its own, but what had Byleth really entranced despite herself was the _intensity_ of its eyes as they bore into her own, two startling gems of blue that contrasted so nicely and effectively against the pale gold fur around…

_”Really, Byleth? You’re waxing poetics about a _cat_?!”_

Byleth’s eyebrows furrowed at Sothis’s sarcastic remarks. Cats were fascinating creatures. They tended to be extremely independent and hard to earn their trust, and most definitely appreciated their privacy, but they could also develop a bond of genuine affection and loyalty if given the time and chance. She couldn’t help but see a lot of herself in them.

_”Spotted the local cat lady.”_

Byleth rolled her eyes and shrugged, deciding against offering a retort to that. Instead, she placed her bucket down and lowered herself on her knees. She smiled and patted the top of her thigh with her left hand, while her right reached for the bucked and picked out a small fish by the end of its tail.

“I’ve never seen you before. You’re new around here, aren’t you?” she tilted her head to the side and cooed, despite being fully aware of how silly was to expect a cat to understand what she was saying, and of the increasingly weird looks she was getting from the bystanders. “Come here, I’ve got some food for you.”

She placed the treat to the ground and wiggled back to give him space. The cat’s eyes flickered to the proffered meal in what she could swear was longing, but then he reared back and let out a furious meow, his tail poised high and flailing wildly in distress. In her mind, Sothis chuckled.

_”Looks like this one’s going to be a tough nut to crack, even for you._”

Confused, Byleth watched as the feline darted forwards again, well into her personal space, but elected to completely ignore the delicious fish lying beside him rather than sweep it up and run away with it, as she would have predicted. Instead, it placed its front paws on her lap and lifted itself up, so close that she could feel the tips of its whiskers brush softly against her cheeks.

“Meow!! _Meowwww!!!_”

Byleth’s breath hitched in her throat. It felt like a desperate plea.

Surely she was hearing things.

Wasn’t she?

“I… _don’t_ understand…” she tried to reach for the cat and scratch the secret spot behind the ears that she _knew_ every cat loved, but before she could come as close as to graze its fur - soft, so soft - the cat had slipped far from her reach, oozing an intensity and urgency no cat should ever display.

“_Hmm,_” Sothis hummed softly. “_It would seem like it wants you to follow. How strange._”

She didn’t manage to finish vocalizing her thoughts that Byleth was already up and about, hot on the feline’s trail. The bucket of freshly caught fish lay abandoned, miserable and discarded, against the paved courtyard floor.

_”Hey, what about dinner?!?”_

* * *

Byleth was panting, lungs burning as she ran and ran, struggling to keep pace with the extremely weird cat as it led her into a wild goose chase all around the monastery, slowing down and waiting for her only when it saw Byleth fall behind.

Part of her, the one who sounded suspiciously like Sothis, chastised herself for her foolishness. It was a _cat_, for Seiros’s sake, cats were weird by definition. Just because this one was a little too weird, even for her rather high tolerance levels - it takes a lot to top having a dormant Goddess live inside your head - that didn't mean she had to follow it around like a bad retelling of a fairy tale. What was even the purpose of this? When she was a child and Jeralt had yet to learn she preferred a sword to a teddy bear to defend herself from nightly monsters, she used to loathe the stereotyped heroines and heroes who flirted this way with danger so needlessly.

And yet… yet another part of her felt this was important.

So she kept chasing, until her muscles burned and her spleen felt ready to burst.

The first sign something was not right was waiting for her on the other side of the monastery, when she saw one of the warhorses, a particularly sturdy and large grey male specimen, roaming free in the field out of the stables, galloping and whinnying at his heart's content. A choir of similar noises wafted from the open stables door.

"_What in the world is going on over here?!?_"

Byleth didn't know, but she was firmly resolved to find out. She reached down to grab the hilt of the faithful dagger she always kept strapped at her waist, thankful for the upteenth time that Jeralt hammered into her brain the need to have a weapon on her at all times, just in case.

Slowly, she slithered into the long shadows and approached the premise just as the damned cat strutted in. She peeked inside, squinting in the growing darkness.

She nearly dropped her weapon in surprise.

"Marianne!!"

The girl was lying prone on the cold, hard stable floor, spread-eagled and, more worryingly, completely still. She didn't react when Byleth had exclaimed her name, nor when the mysterious cat leaped forward and tried to shake her awake in a far too human-like manner to be normal.

Not without some difficulty, she curbed the instinct to rush to the unconscious girl's side, instead raising her blade high, ready to strike and fend off an eventual attack. She scanned carefully the premise, ears strained to pick every little noise that could give away an incoming blow, checked every corner and even in the horses' stalls.

Nothing.

She resheathed her dagger and hurried back to Marianne, kneeling beside her and pressing her fingers against her neck. She heaved a relieved sigh when she felt a pulse, faint but steady, thrumming beneath her fingertips.

"Concussed," she said out loud, "We need to get her to Manuela, I'm not confident enough in my white magic to heal a head-injury."

As though it understood exactly what she had said, the cat meowed in what seemed agreement.

Then he turned on its heel, rummaging with a bundle of clothes lying in a messy heap nearby. She watched as it worked to dislodge something with his paws and teeth, tugging and tearing meticulously until the deep blue cloth gave way and something was left dangling in its mouth. Wiggling its tail happily, the cat strutted all the way back and dropped the item in the palm of her hand.

A Blue Lion badge.

_Dimitri's_ Blue Lion pin, to be exact.

He _was_ supposed to be on stable duty for the day alongside Marianne, now that she thought about it.

Marianne fainted by a nasty blow in her head, Dimitri missing and his clothes discarded and abandoned… A wave of nausea assaulted her as she skimmed through every possibility, her thoughts lingering on the one scenario that she hated the most and that yet checked all the boxes.

She thumbed the now dirty badge in her palm, fear freezing the air in her lungs. In front of her, the cat sat on its hind legs, watching her expectantly, waiting for her to connect the dots and come to the one logical conclusion.

"Oh Goddess," she breathed out, panic bleeding into her trembling voice. "Dimitri was kidnapped."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast chapter! I had really a blast with it, I have to admit I haven't had this much fun writing for a while. It's objectively not that great and it's very ooc for everyone involved, but I somewhat like it so I'll leave it here a little early lmao

"_What?!?_"

"You heard me," Rhea said slowly, her tone flat and as cold as her eyes. Right in this moment, she looked far less like the peaceful Archbishop she claimed to be and more like a seasoned general. "You are not allowed to leave the Monastery and give chase. That is final."

Byleth felt a sudden urge twist at the pit of her stomach, just as her right fist curled tightly on itself, all too ready to act upon it.

_"Calm down,_" Sothis admonished her softly. _"I understand how you feel. Trust me, I do. But striking the Archbishop right in the jaw doesn't really seem to be the best way to earn her trust, wouldn't you agree?"_

Under normal circumstances, Byleth would wholeheartedly agree with little no issue. To be fair, under normal circumstances - or, at least, what she had grown accustomed to call normal under Jeralt's guidance - she would have probably dismissed the whole incident as none of her business and gone on with her life, unless someone stepped in with the appropriate payment and hired her for the job.

Now, the mere idea to leave Dimitri in the hands of his abductors, maybe even the Death Knight himself, was enough to make her sick in the stomach. She needed to _do_ something to help him, and fast.

_"Aww, look at you! You've grown so attached to the Faerghus boy!"_ Sothis chirped sweetly. _"I'm so proud of you! Although I will admit, being so easy on the eyes probably helps his case a fair deal…"_

Byleth clenched her jaw, disregarding Sothis's last - and completely off course - comment. Instead, she focused on Rhea's gaze and easily matched the coldness in the Archbishop's jade eyes with her own.

"I can take care of myself."

"I hold no doubt on the matter. You proved your skill time and time again." Rhea replied coolly, though her eyebrows pinched in a sorrowful grimace. "However, the situation is far too dire for you and your students to handle this time. I don't know what would I do if we were to lose you to the hands of these wicked fiends… It's a risk we cannot afford to take."

In Byleth's mind, even Sothis huffed in annoyance.

_"This lady."_ The goddess grumbled, thoroughly peeved. _"She surely has her priorities all twisted, doesn't she? I mean, one of her students and only heir of a major kingdom goes missing, and she hardly bats an eye. Flayn disappears, and all hell breaks loose. Not to say the poor girl is any less deserving of attention, at all, but don't all the students here deserve the same treatment? It's not fair to completely ignore the boy's predicament."_

Byleth blinked, an idea coming to mind at Sothis's remark. She turned her head to the side, locking eyes with the other occupant of the room, who had been awfully quiet and careful to avoid eye-contact during the whole exchange.

"You weren't so pragmatic when Flayn was taken." She spoke, her words aimed at Rhea but her eyes firmly set on Seteth, who winced as though physically burned by the veiled accusation. "As far as we know, the same group who was responsible for Flayn's abduction might be behind Dimitri's disappearance as well. We can't waste a second. And yet you are actively preventing me from doing the job you appointed me for and rescue the student I'm responsible of."

Both Rhea and Seteth flinched as her anger and fear made themselves even more pronounced in her tone.

"Flayn was… a _special_ case, I'm afraid," The Archbishop stated, though Byleth didn't miss the sideway glance she threw to a now very flustered Seteth. She almost felt sorry for putting him in this uncomfortable position. Almost. "Besides, we need to handle the situation very carefully. If word of the disappearance of the young Crown Prince of Faerghus were to spread out, Garreg Mach would be thrown into chaos, as well as the rest of Fòdlan. We can't allow that to happen."

"So you're proposing to simply sit back and do nothing," Byleth seethed, "You're turning your back on him."

Rhea's lips curved in a serene, soft smile that died well before it could reach her eyes. "That is not my intention, child. I'm merely suggesting to keep a low profile, and investigate. The group of people who took Flayn had no intention to kill her, if anything to have her keep serving their purpose, whichever it might be. And if they are not the ones responsible for Lord Blayddid's disappearance, it's likely they took the boy with the intention of ransom in mind. We should probably wait for their request to arrive and then, once we have this solid lead, we'll make our move and strike them down."

_"You know,"_ Sothis said, uncharacteristically somber, _"I loathe to admit it, but she is making a fair point."_

Byleth clenched her teeth, frustration mounting at a faster rate than she'd like to admit. She had been cold and calculating through her life, even earning a borderline insulting epithet for it, but all her detached demeanor surely could not even begin to compare to the Archbishop's. At least, Byleth always took care of those who were under her charge, if only out of duty and obligation alone.

She was already starting to plan out her escape and research for the upcoming night when Seteth cleared his throat pointedly. Both women whirled around to face him, one hopeful at the sudden lifeline she was - maybe - being thrown, the other cold, and slightly threatening.

_"He's got guts, stepping into the fight like that,"_ Sothis chuckled, _"I like him."_

"Rhea," Seteth began, his voice and posture firm and unwavering despite the less than amused look the Archbishop leveled on him. "While I fully understand your reasoning, I must admit I, too, am concerned for the boy's safety. We can't abandon him to his fate."

Byleth was pretty sure Seteth was remembering the sheer effort Dimitri and the rest of the Blue Lions had poured to find his sister. He was pointedly avoiding eye contact with Byleth. Good, let him stew in his sense of guilt.

Just as pointedly, she ignores Sothis's muffled whistle. _"That was harsh."_

She didn't bother denying it.

Rhea's eyes narrowed in suspicion, lips pressed thin in a flat, stern line. Byleth had to applaud Seteth for not faltering despite the positively withering look on Rhea's face. He only swallowed and moved on.

"We could deploy the Knights of Seiros to search for him."

Rhea frowned. "As much as I share your sentiment, the Knights of Seiros are not fit for such a delicate and subtle mission. Their role is to be the fist of the Goddess Sothis that crushes those filthy sinners who plot against her-"

_"Excuse me, I don't want to _crush_ anyone, for your information!"_

Byleth had to physically fight back a snort as Sothis vehemently protested and thrashed, and yet could not be heard by the oh-so-devote Archbishop.

"-and for that reason," Rhea went on seraphically, "they lack the necessary discretion to conduct this particular quest. The Goddess's punishments must be exemplary. Do you really think knights like Catherine and Alois have the subterfuge to lay low and investigate?"

She did indeed have a point, Byleth was forced to acknowledge it. But at the same time, it merely served to strengthen the idea that she herself was the best candidate for the job.

Seteth probably sensed it too, for he threw a genuine apologetic look at Byleth. At least he tried, and for that Byleth was grateful.

Behind Byleth, the door to the Audience Chamber suddenly slammed shut.

"And what about me?"

Rhea's expression immediately darkened as her focus flew past Byleth's shoulder to redirect itself on the approaching newcomer. A mighty, gauntleted hand landed heavily on Byleth's left shoulder, nearly causing her knees to buckle, but at the same time another weight, far more metaphorical and constricting, was lifted from her chest.

She looked up and smiled at her father. He winked back.

"Jeralt."

"Rhea." He greeted with a shrug, just as cold.

"I was not aware you had already completed the task issued to you for the month. I suppose everything went smoothly?"

"Yes, quite. Just another rebellion quashed, as you requested."

A chill ran down Byleth's spine. Another uprising? Wasn't Lord Lonato's ploy an exception to the rule?

"I see," Rhea said, not smiling. "I'm glad to hear it."

Jeralt actually snorted at that. "Sure thing. But enough talk about me. What's this story about a student going missing?"

"The Crown Prince of Faerghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blayddid, is currently declared missing." Seteth immediately pounced on the sudden opening that had presented itself. "Your daughter here found the student supposed to share his domestic duties fainted and his belongings discarded. We were discussing who to send to carry a thorough investigation. I take it you'd be willing to take the job, if you're free?"

Jeralt's smirk grew somewhat predatory. "Of course. Where do I start looking?"

"The stables," this time Byleth was the one to speak up, at last recovering from the massive relief that had washed over her since Jeralt's dramatic barging in. To have him on the job was definitely reassuring. "That's where I think they were attacked."

"What of the other student?"

"Still out for the count. She's in Manuela's care at the moment."

"Ah, figures, would have been too easy to have a direct eye-witness."

"_Jeralt._"

Both father and daughter fell silent, suddenly wary again. And with good reasons: although she hadn't raised her voice in the slightest, the Archbishop looked positively thunderous.

And her eyes… was it a trick of the light, or did her pupils just shrink to thin slits for a fleeting moment?

_"I saw it too… how strange indeed…"_

Jeralt straightened up, shoulders squared and chest puffed up in defiant nonchalance. However, the hand on Byleth's shoulder tightened its grip, protectively. She wondered briefly if he too had caught the shift in the older woman's eyes.

"Yeah?"

Rhea glared at him. "You are a captain of near legendary status among those at Garreg Mach and beyond, and widely known as the Blade Breaker to the people. We'd like this mission to be conducted under the top-most secrecy as to avoid a scandal of cataclysmic proportions."

"Heh, not surprised. I wonder if even the Goddess knows of all the secrets you keep tightly secured to your chest, _Lady_ Rhea," Jeralt sneered, putting particular emphasis on the title. "But worry not, I've got this. After all, I've been eluding your holier-than-thou clutches all this time, haven't I?"

Rhea grimaced, something flitting through her eyes that had Byleth shudder and instinctively assume a defensive position. The air around the Archbishop thrummed with energy, charged with magic familiar and yet foreign, unlike anything she knew.

It lasted but a moment. Time to blink, and the murderous intent passed like a lone cloud swept by the wind, and the Archbishop smiled, sweet and tender as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Very well then. I'll leave this to your capable hands, my old friend."

Jeralt nodded stiffly. "Good. If you'll kindly excuse us, now…"

Byleth allowed her father's firm grip to turn her on the spot and lead her out of the room. Before the door closed shut behind her, she cast a glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch a glimpse of Rhea and Seteth discussing animatedly under their breath. She strained her ears to make out what they were talking about, but Jeralt slammed the door shut with a deafening bang which Byleth was sure could be heard by the entire Monastery.

"Don't get involved with them. They're only trouble. Mind your own business and avoid contact with Rhea as much as you can while trapped in this damned Monastery."

Mind her business, right. Another of Jeralt's classic quotes and pearls of wisdom, perhaps even his favorite one. She nodded, following him along the long corridor leading to the dining hall.

"Thank you for stepping in for me. I appreciated it."

"It's alright." Jeralt grumbled, brow furrowed in what Byleth had learned to be embarrassment. Much like her, her father had never been one for emotional talks. "Besides, I know you would have sneaked out and took matters in your own hands without permission if I hadn't taken charge, and guess how happy Rhea would have been? You would have ended up with the whole Order of Seiros on your tracks, and Rhea would have kept you under lock for the rest of your life. Yeah, not on my watch."

Byleth frowned. "Why is she so adamant on keeping me here, I wonder…"

"I wonder too… and I'll find out. Don't worry kid, I've got this."

She smiled. She knew he did.

Jeralt chuckled and extended his arm, his hand threading through her hair and mussing it up. "Well, would you look at that, you're smiling properly. Can't say I've seen that look on you very often. Perhaps this Monastery isn't all that bad, then. The kids are a good influence on you…"

The mention of the 'kids', as Jeralt jokingly called them, was enough to erase Byleth's smile as Dimitri's disappearance finally started sinking in once the first rush of adrenaline faded, replaced by anguish and fear for the boy's safety. Where in the world could he be?

"Hey, you're overthinking it." Jeralt diverted her attention, maneuvering himself to pull her in for what she supposed to be a quite awkward one-armed hug. "We're going to find your precious Princely brat. Leave it to your old man."

"I thought you hated to be called that?"

"I do, but there are times a man has to swallow his pride and take a hit for the team."

Byleth snorted quietly and disentangled herself from his grasp.

"Thank you, Dad."

"Anytime, kiddo."

* * *

Well, this was definitely awkward.

He hadn't exactly _meant_ to eavesdrop on the Professor, even as a Goddess-forsaken cat Dimitri still had enough sense and manners to respect that boundary. He had merely followed her all the way to the Archbishop's Audience Chambers for what else was he supposed to do once Manuela booted him out - literally. For all her complaining about being a frail young maiden, she sure had a powerful kick - from the infirmary the moment she spotted him trying to sneak in to visit Marianne.

In his defense, he hadn't meant to listen in the Professor's and Archbishop's argument through the ajar doors. It just… _happened_. A cat's ears appeared to be startingly finer than a human's. And by the time that realization had dawned on him, he was already too engrossed in the conversation to stop listening.

_Curiosity killed the cat_, the old saying went. He could only hope it wasn't meant to be taken too literally.

So he had sat in a corner, ears twitching and tuning on the hushed voices wafting from within the wide chambers. Despite everything, included how ironically Lady Rhea was right on her stance to avoid worrying excessively over his alleged abduction, his heart soared in affection as Professor took his side and insisted to at least send out a search party. He made a mental note to fully express his gratitude for her concern once his condition was finally solved.

Then Jeralt made his grand entrance - Dimitri made it just in time to duck away and move his tail out of Jeralt's path before the old knight could step on it, in all his armored glory - and Dimitri was not ashamed to admit he was thoroughly impressed to see how the older man conducted himself in front of such a formidable opponent, never caving or backing down despite the undeniable, fearsome authority the woman radiated off in powerful waves, making her presence insanely heavy and stifling despite her minute appearance. In that regard, she reminded him of Edelgard.

Careful to maintain a certain distance as to avoid being spotted and kicked out of the premises with the other cats, he silently followed the father-daughter duo as they exited the room and headed towards the dining hall. If he had retained the ability to emote at all, he would have probably smiled and chuckled to himself as the two bickered amicably between each other, familial fondness blatant in every little gesture or teasing tone.

How long had it been since he experienced a sense of camaraderie like that? Of family? He could not remember exactly, as his own father was often too busy with his royal duties to spend time with Dimitri, although...

Right, _Glenn…_

As the two bid each other goodbye and Jeralt left to prepare for his mission, a mission Dimitri alone knew to be perfectly fruitless, his heart sank. There he went again, tearing apart fathers from sons and daughters without meaning to. Of course. It appeared his unlucky streak had yet to break.

The moment Jeralt disappeared behind the corner, Professor reached into the inner pocket of her coat, fishing out the Blue Lions badge he used to wear attached to his cape. There was no trace of her usual stoicism on her face, only sadness and concern, as she studied the item once again, as though trying to divine its owner's location from it alone, and then held it close to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Dimitri." She whispered, so quietly he could barely hear her despite his overwhelmingly heightened senses. "I'm so sorry…"

She really shouldn't be. He was the one who ought to apologize, for causing her such unnecessary distress and breaking her away from her father again so soon. She shouldn't feel responsible for this accident at all.

But how to convey such a message if he was deprived of the ability to speak, he wondered.

Well, perhaps there was a way.

Silently as a cat - an appropriate way of phrasing it, if he said so himself - he closed the distance between them and gently nuzzled her calf. She startled and nearly dropped the badge, hand flying to the Sword of Creator now once again secured to her belt, but immediately relaxed once she looked down and took notice of him.

The smile she flashed him from above, tired and sad but nonetheless genuine, was something he was sure he'd never forget as long as he lived.

"Hey there," she greeted him, kneeling down and precariously balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. "You followed me all the way over here without being caught? You're certainly smart for a cat."

She reached down to cup the side of his face and he tilted his head to the side to grant her better access. Without wasting a second the Professor started scratching on a spot behind his ear and _Goddess_, was he _purring_?!?

Before he knew it, he was lying on his side, his body stretched out on the floor before her while she kept scratching and rubbing against his head and belly, her touch firm but gentle. It felt so nice...

"I never properly thanked you for leading me to the stables." She was saying, and Dimitri realized with a jolt he'd let his eyes flutter close under the influence of her ministrations. "Had it not been for you… I don't even want to think what could have happened. Thank you so much."

He wanted to tell her she had nothing to be grateful for, or to be worried, but he was so far gone and lost in her magic touch that all he could muster was an awkward, hoarse cooing sound. She chuckled in response, and he briefly considered doing it again just to hear her laugh some more, dignity be damned.

Eventually, she straightened up with a sigh, smoothing her now wrinkled shorts and lacy stockings.

"I need to inform the other students of the recent developments. If someone is really out targeting the Academy's pupils, they need to know and be on guard, regardless of what Lady Rhea says. I'd rather have a scandal than a dead kid on my hands." She grimaced, brows furrowed in intense pain as she pinched the bridge on her nose between her thumb and index fingers and pressed down on her forehead, a futile attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. "Want to come with me? For moral support? Sothis knows I'm gonna need it." She added darkly.

He rubbed his cheek against her leg once more. She seemed to correctly interpret it as the affirmative response he was aiming for.

What he was _not_ expecting was for her so sweep down and scoop him up in her arms. Next thing he knew, he was being cradled snugly against her chest - her _chest_, Goddess please take him now before he did something he'd come to regret later - and one of her hands was holding the back of his head up, scratching slowly and steadily the space between his ears.

All human instincts and sense of propriety he always took pride in were screaming at him to get away right this instant, _you fiend_, but when he tried to move Byleth merely shushed and increased the pace of her soothing scratching.

"Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."

Oh, he knew as much, even though his heart ached terribly as she smiled that devastatingly sad smile of hers, and all strength finally left his body.

Too late, he had fallen to the spell.

So he did the only thing he felt was right.

He gently laid his face against the soft curve of her chest and started kneading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Rhea, out of everyone who appeared in this chapter, I really did you dirtiest of all TT_TT plot required Byleth&co to stay at the Monastery, at least for now, and Rhea was the best candidate to take one for the team and give me a reason to have them stay. I'll make it up to you, Rhea!!
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you had fun reading this mess of a chapter, and let me know your thoughts! I've never written something humoristic in nature like this (although it's very angsty at the moment haha) and I'm going in pretty blindly. I hope it's somewhat entertaining at least!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I really suck at dialogue and I can't really handle more than three characters in one scene
> 
> Also me: let's have all twenty three remaining students gather in one place and have a go at each other. What _possibly_ could go wrong, am i rite??
> 
> I'm smart, I've been told (/s)

Byleth stared absently at the doors leading to the Blue Lions classroom, a lump firmly lodged in her throat and a weigh constricting her chest, her breath coming out in shaky, stilted puffs.

_"You are afraid."_

It was not a question. Byleth didn't bother to reply to the uncharacteristically somber Goddess, who understood nonetheless.

She _was_ afraid, that went without saying. Terrified was, perhaps, an even better term. Terrified of what might become of her dear student, if she didn't make it in time to save him. Terrified of the fear and disappointment she will see on the faces of his classmates as they learn the news, of how sorely she had failed them, all of them…

_"Now you're being overly dramatic. It's not like you to throw in the towel like that and wallow in your misery."_

Byleth frowned. She never even had reason to be miserable before coming to the Monastery in the first place. Now she did. To be exact, she had twenty four perfectly good reasons to be miserable.

_"Fair enough."_

She sighed, struggling not to listen to the whispered voices wafting from behind the heavy oak double doors, dripping with surprise and concern at being called back in class so cryptically and so late in the night.

Her arms tightened around herself, dislodging her warm furry friend comfortably nestled between them. The cat meowed questioningly, if not a little disgruntled that his nap had been cut short, and slowly blinked up at her, pale eyelashes fluttering softly and framing his wide blue eyes.

The same sky blue shade as Dimitri's...

She smiled ruefully and cupped the top of its head and rubbed, chuckling when the little ball of fur scrunched up its nose in mild displeasure and pushed out of her grasp, landing effortlessly with a soft thud on the floor, fur still ruffled and spiking up in every direction. 

"Wait for me here, okay?" She whispered, "Don't wander off on your own and I'll bring you some food when I'm done. It won't take long."

With an impeccable timing, the cat meowed loudly in response, then sat on its hind legs, his fluffy tail curling up against its body.

"Good boy." She said, amused. "See you later."

She took a moment to recollect herself, heave in a deep breath as her smile died off, replaced by a concerned frown and stoic severity, and finally pushed the doors open.

The nervous chatting instantly ceased the moment she stepped in, the doors immediately swinging closed behind her back. Twenty three pairs of eyes pierced through her, stabbing through every part of her they could find, precise as arrows and powerful as lances as the students gathered in the middle of the room silently parted for her to pass and monitored every step she took until she had made her way to the desk at the front of the class. Nobody so much as dared as to draw breath.

“So, Teach,” eventually Claude spoke up and broke the heavy silence that had settled. Byleth noticed he wasn’t wearing his trademark golden cape and uniform jacket. She wondered whether he was about to settle himself to bed before he was hurriedly summoned here. “Fancy telling us what is going on here? As much as I would enjoy it, I sincerely doubt you sent Cyril around to gather us here to have a sleepover altogether.”

A few steps behind him, Lorenz threw him a withering glare, though he elected not to comment. His face was pale and taut, the first inklings of panic settling in his eyes and curling the corner of his mouth downwards.

“Indeed,” Edelgard interjected, “The boy was not very forthcoming with information when I asked. Is something the matter?”

The young Imperial princess appeared as stoic and collected as ever, but Byleth’s keen eyes didn’t miss the slight quiver in her shoulders, the subtle but undeniable twitch of white gloved fingers. Again that weight made itself known, lodging itself at the pit of her stomach like a boulder.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but before she could decide on what to say Dedue had beaten her to it.

“Professor, by chance, is His Highness with you? I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“And Marianne too!!” Hilda piped up, her usual coy smile now absent and replaced by genuine concern for her friend. “I thought she’d be here, but…”

The tension that had been slithering like a poisonous snake in the underbrush now reared its head in full, growing thick and dense to the point it felt it could be cut with a knife. The students' bewildered gazes immediately fell upon her, pleading silently for her to dispel their worries and reassure them everything would be fine. It was in instances like this that Byleth truly put in doubt her skills as a teacher, and wondered if coming here was a good choice to begin with. Performance pressure had been a constant presence during her time as a mercenary, but the lack of any further attachment beyond a flimsy contract - and sometimes not even that - made the eventual failure a lot easier to bear. She didn't care about the employer and their achievement, nor did they care what she did with the reward once she carried off her task. It was easier that way, for everyone involved.

But now it was _personal_, and the weight of this responsibility was really starting to wear her down. Could she even bring herself to be the source of comfort and reassurance they craved, if she herself was so uncharacteristically haunted by doubts and kept second-guessing herself?

She waited for Sothis's derisive scoff.

None came.

Instead, a strange, fuzzy warmth filled her whole being, spreading like a wildfire from a spot of undetermined location in her chest and through her limbs, all the way to the tips of her fingers and her toes. The pressure in her stomach let off a little. A calming spell. A kind of magic she never quite learned.

_"I swear, what would you do without me?"_ Sothis bemoaned dramatically, although the lack of actual bite did not go unheeded.

Byleth silently thanked the Goddess for her support, and schooled her features in the usual emotionless mask she wore in lieu of armor.

"We believe another attack occurred," she began, ignoring the shocked gasps coming from her audience. "Marianne is currently resting in the Infirmary, Manuela is treating her."

Lorenz and Hilda paled, the latter lifting a hand to cover her gaping mouth, and even Claude's ever present easy going smile had eclipsed away from sight. Instead, his eyes hardened, cold and calculating, a severe frown creasing his sun kissed skin.

"As for Dimitri…" she once again fished out the Blue Lion brooch that had been clasped to his cape, and tried desperately to ignore the sickening lurch her stomach gave when the Blue Lions, faces pale as sheets and eyes blown wide in panic, closed in on her to better examine the item. "His clothes and belongings were found crumpled on the stable floor next to Marianne's body. We think he was…"

The word 'kidnapped' got stuck in her throat, choking her.

However, her silence was apparently enough, for she could see realization dawn upon each and every one, and she braced herself for…

"_NO!!_"

She physically winced, as though someone had just punched her exceptionally hard in the gut. She could expect this reaction from Dedue.

But from _Felix_?! That was a whole another story.

She didn't even deemed him capable to make a sound like that.

She took a sharp intake of breath as Dedue, as large and sturdy in physique as frail of mind and tender of heart, let himself crash on the chair behind the nearest desk, limp like a puppet whose strings were abruptly severed. Mercedes, despite her own horror, snapped out of her trance and hurried to assist him.

Felix, on the other hand, took to card his hands through his hair, messing it up out of his ponytail and pulling wildly at the dark blue strands.

"The one time you had to be a boar to save your life and you _don't_, Dimitri, you blithering idiot…!!" He hissed loudly. Then he snapped his head up to look at Byleth, eyes usually slanted in sharp loathing and boredom now blown wide and frantic, eager to _act_. "When are we leaving?"

She winced, the bitter taste of the truth she had to unleash on him flooding her mouth. She let her eyes flutter close before she saw too much of herself in Felix's and her resolve crumbled.

"We're not."

"_I beg your pardon?!_"

"The Knights of Seiros are already on the move," she explained calmly, knowing fully well it would never be enough to quench Felix's desire to depart to the rescue. "My father Jeralt has taken the reins of the mission, and I have full trust in his skills. He'll find the responsibles in no time, and then we'll strike them down and rescue Dimitri. In the meanwhile, I must ask you not to move alone, stay close and watch each other's back at all times. A curfew will be put in place to further ensure your safety."

At that, Leonie placed a hand over Hilda's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't worry Hilda, Captain Jeralt never disappoints. We'll be able to avenge Marianne in a heartbeat."

Hilda gave a stiff nod and a quivering smile, though she didn't stop wringing her hands in distress.

Felix, however, didn't seem to be willing to go down without putting up a fight.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" He snarled, "You're telling me I should just stay put here while the damn boar is kept somewhere, rotting away like an animal? On my dead body! I'm going, and I'm going _now_!"

Annette let out a strangled sob, tears streaming down and drawing glittery lines across her round cheeks. Ingrid frowned and rounded up on her childhood friend. "_Felix_! Calm yourself at once! What good do you think it would do to act out of your commander's orders and get in the Knights' way? You'll only jeopardize their mission-"

"To hell with them! If you wish to listen to a couple of old fools who can't care less for him past his title, fine, be my guest! But my brother taught me to think with my head and act accordingly. I'll be damned before I let a bunch of senile monks dictate what I should or shouldn't do."

Ingrid blanched sharply at the mention of Glenn, her mouth gaping open in blatant shock and hurt. Hell, Byleth was only superficially aware of the impact Glenn Fraldarius's death had on Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri and Sylvain, and even _she_ felt the burning sting of Felix's vitriolic accusations. For Ingrid, it must have been at least three times as devastating. "Felix, you-"

Chest rising and falling rapidly, crimson splotches spotting his unnaturally pale cheeks, Felix threw the whole class a look of the most intense disgust and contempt Byleth had ever seen on a human's face and then whirled around and launched himself out of the room.

"Felix!!"

Byleth lunged after him, but a firm and large hand latched itself around her wrist, preventing her to advance. She glared up at Sylvain. He merely shrugged.

"Leave him to me. I know how to handle him," he said evenly, though his hand trembled ever so slightly against hers. He released her and cast a glance over his shoulder to Ingrid, who had crossed her arms tightly around her waist and crouched down, letting her long blond hair cascade down to hide her face. "Debrief me later on what we're supposed to do, alright In?"

Ingrid nodded stiffly.

"Alright, see you later, hopefully with an angry kitten in tow."

And with that Sylvain was gone, pursuing Felix.

Well, Byleth mused bitterly, so much for safety measures.

"I must say, Teach, that could have gone way better." Claude said with a shrug.

"Indeed, it doesn't befit a noble such as him to behave so poorly," Lorenz sneered, "Although I must say there is some merit to what Duke Fraldarius claims. Were it not for my noble duty to be a diligent and responsible leader, I myself would not hesitate to run in pursuit. They dared to touch a student and member of the Golden Deer house, and for that whoever is responsible must pay."

Silence welcomed Lorenz's bold declaration, nobody finding it within themselves to disagree. The attack on Marianne and the abduction of Dimitri was a heavy blow, one that was sure to leave consequences. The air felt heavy, damp with grief and sorrow.

Then Claude, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, turned to address the one group of people who had silently tried to melt in the background during Felix's outburst.

"You know, you've been awfully quiet back there, Princess. Any princely idea of where His Princeliness might be?"

"Don't be ridiculous," was Edelgard's stern reply. "Why should I know anything on the matter?"

Claude's grin grew wider into a full smirk, though the mirth in his eyes vanished. "Oh, I don't really know. Just thought it strange that of three houses hosted in this place, the Black Eagles are the only ones who haven't been touched. Wouldn't want you guys to feel left out of the fun, you know?"

Edelgard stiffened, and her fellow classmates did as well. Caspar and Ferdinand rose to their full height - or, at least, Caspar tried to - and puffed out their chests, clearly offended and ready to let some steam out on Claude's face.

Hubert stepped in, positively towering over Claude, ominous and threatening. "Preposterous. Her Highness has nothing to do with this conundrum, and you would do better to watch your tongue when in her presence, if you cherish your life. Am I being clear?"

Claude whistled, utterly careless. "Uuhh, touched a nerve there, Hubert?"

Oh, this was getting ridiculous.

"Enough!"

Silence fell again among the quarreling students. Once more, Byleth felt the weight of their eyes bear into her, pinning her to the spot.

"It will make us no good to fight among ourselves. We need to keep a united front against this threat. No taunting or threatening. Am I being clear?"

Hubert threw Claude a look that would have been enough to wither any lesser man to a shadow of what they once were. Claude, being Claude, merely shrugged and crossed his arms against the back of his head, the very epitome of relaxed.

"Roger that, Teach."

"Of course, Professor."

Byleth nodded, not entirely convinced - especially considering Claude's peculiar penchant to stir up trouble - but willing to take their word at face value.

"Very well, then. You are dismissed. Please make your way to your personal quarters and _stay_ there. Don't make me come and check on you."

She watched as the young students slowly filed out of the Blue Lions classroom, grief painted on the Blue Lions students just as outrage oozed off the Golden Deers members. To be fair, she was not in any better position. She wanted nothing more than to collapse right here and now and pretend this day had not happened at all.

"Professor?"

Byleth started, caught off guard. She hadn't realized Edelgard had yet to leave. The silver of her tresses shone brightly in the dim candlelight, and dark shadows ran circles around her eyes. As she approached, Byleth could finally take in full the extent of the shock Edelgard had been so efficiently reining in. She was as pale as a ghost.

"Edelgard. Are you alright?"

She placed a hand over the Princess's shoulder, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. The ghost of a smile flashed through Edelgard's lips, though it was so fast Byleth wondered if it was a mere figment of her imagination.

"I was just… wondering… do you think he's still alive?"

The question slammed into Byleth's gut with the violence of a dull axe. Her grip tightened, crumpling the scarlet cape and allowing her to have a feel of the rippling muscle lying underneath the Princesses's uniform and deceivingly minute appearance.

"I'm sure he is," she lied, voice far more clipped than she wished it to be. She could not afford to show weakness. "Dimitri is definitely no damsel in distress. He won't go down so easily."

Edelgard huffed, though Byleth couldn't determine whether it was supposed to be a laugh or a choked sob. Perhaps, considering the suspicious wet shine in her eyes, it was both.

"I wonder… he used to be such a crybaby, when he was little."

Ahh, yes, she remembered Dimitri once mentioning the history he shared with the Imperial Princess. Friends and kin in everything but in blood.

"You and Dimitri… you go back a long way, don't you?"

Edelgard nodded, a melancholic shadow softening her features. It was painfully obvious Dimitri's disappearance was affecting her more than she was willing to let on.

_"Such is the fate of those who were born to command,"_ Sothis commented solemnly. _"Never to be allowed to exist within themselves, they live and breathe for the people who look at the crowns they bear. It is cruel, and yet unescapable."_

It was cruel indeed. How long will a human heart be able to bear that burden? How long until Edelgard lost herself to the Emperor she was fated to be?

"He and I met when I was forced to flee the Empire. My uncle and I sought refuge within the Kingdom during our exile…. Dimitri kept me company when I thought I had nobody else." Edelgard's tone was flat, bordering on cold, but the fondness crinkling at the edge of her eyes was unmistakable. "If it weren't for him, I probably wouldn't be here in the first place. In fact, I would…"

She trailed off, lost in thought. Shadows flickered through her unfocused eyes and dimmed her smile to a grim line, but before Byleth could further inquire the Princess had already snapped out of it, a fake smile plastered over her face like a porcelain mask to hide beneath. She stepped back, away from Byleth's grasp.

"Forgive me, Professor. It would seem I've grown foolishly emotional. The past is in the past, there is no point in digging it up any further." She said with a polite bow. "I bid you goodnight, Professor. Me and the rest of the Black Eagles will do all we can to aid you and the Church in your research."

"Wait, Edelgard."

The Princess halted in her steps just as she was about to step past the door's threshold. She blinked, mildly surprised.

"Yes, Professor?"

Had Edelgard always looked so tiny? So minute, for the weight she had to carry? Should Byleth extend a hand to the young Emperor-to-be, offer some form of reprieve for this young lady?

Yes, yes she should.

"I don't think there is anything wrong or shameful to let go and cry, sometimes. You are allowed to feel grief over a lost friend."

It was perhaps ironic, if not frankly hypocritical, of Byleth, the renowned Ashen Demon, to lecture Edelgard on the need to externate her emotions when she herself had never so much as shed tears in the first place, but the weight in her chest was becoming unbearable despite the dryness of her eyes. If the relief of tears won't come to her, she at least wanted Edelgard to allow herself and indulge, if only this once.

Edelgard's lilac eyes, like pale roses in the flickering light cast by the torches, widened in surprise. Then she smiled, though it held no mirth or joy. Only sorrow and exhaustion such a young soul should never know of.

"Thank you, Professor, but I have long run out of tears to shed."

* * *

Edelgard's heels clicked sharply against the cold stone. The path was clear, as the knights were focusing on patrolling the outer perimeter of the Monastery, and her fellow classmates had long retired to their personal quarters, each dealing with the emotions today's events had stirred.

"Are you mourning for the Faerghusian Prince, Your Highness?"

She frowned at the question her loyal vassal posed. She didn't know. She _loathed_ to be left in the dark. Ignorance was bliss for the blind fools who chose to wallow in the blinding darkness, for those who could not move forward. She refused to be one of those fools.

And yet the dagger carefully strapped to her belt had never felt so heavy like it did now.

"Do not be foolish, Hubert. I had long readied myself for this to happen."

Hubert hummed, not entirely convinced. "But you are tense, milady, even if today's events happen to be favorable to our cause. Are you feeling regret for the path you chose to tread?"

Edelgard felt her treacherous heart skip a beat.

"_Never_." She snarled, whirling around, her hair and cape flaring up around her and nearly hitting Hubert's chest. "I am merely disappointed that Claude seems to be on our tracks. We'll need to move carefully from now on."

Hubert's mouth twisted in disdain. "The Riegan boy… Should I try to dispose of him?"

Indeed, if she were to try again to get rid of Claude, now that Dimitri's whereabouts were unknown, Faerghus and the Alliance would hardly put up a fight. Less blood to be shed on the path to freedom.

And yet… yet part of her still hesitated. Part of her wanted to cling to the hope the lost Prince would return, safe and sound.

She, too, was a fool.

"No. The time isn't ripe yet." She said, resuming her walking, glad to see her quarters appear behind the corner. "We need to proceed with caution, but the plan doesn't change. We've gone too far to back down now."

"As always, your determination leaves me breathless, Your Highness. I will gladly lay down my life to see your goals achieved."

"Thank you, Hubert, though I hope that won't be necessary." She reached for the handle to the door to her room and slipped in. "Goodnight, Hubert."

"Have a pleasant night as well, Your Highness."

She closed the door behind her, pressing her ear against the thick lacquered cherrywood. Only when Hubert's slow, slightly dragging footfalls faded in the distance she allowed her trembling knees to finally buckle under her weight and Edelgard slid against the door, down and down until she lay in a disheveled heap on the floor, impassible mask at last shattered in a thousand tiny pieces.

Weak. She was so accursedly weak.

Her hands shook as they unlatched the dagger and delicately slid it out of its sheath, the ornate blade glinting mockingly as she grasped the silky hilt with both hands and her reflection stared back at her from its silvery depths.

Haggard. Worn down. Pathetic.

But for once, in memory of a friend she was bound to lose, surely it was acceptable.

Water fell upon the blade, shattering her mirror image. She clutched the blade to her chest.

"Dima… I'll make it worth it. I vow this to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El needs to chill and stop being so overdramatic.
> 
> This chapter was quite rough, with all the dialogue - which really isn't my forte - but I'm nonetheless quite pleased with it. Edie was a nightmare to write (I love her but damn gurl you're so difficult to get right) but I had wayyy too much fun with Claude so I guess that makes it even? Lol idek anymore
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and let me know your thoughts if you feel like it!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuhh not particularly sold on this one, Felix is _really_ ooc and the finale is lackluster, but I could not come up with anything better so I suppose this will have to do. I might mix up POVs from now on to get in a little deeper in Dimitri's interactions with other characters. Unfortunately, there is just so much a cat can communicate using only a fairly limited body language.
> 
> Also, minor tw for blood and violence... Although this is Fire Emblem, the franchise that literally thrives on depictions of violence.
> 
> Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Dimitri had a grand total of a split second of forewarning to get out of the way before the heavy door was violently flung open and someone darted out of the classroom, a blur of dark blue and white that Dimitri knew all too well.

He never thought he'd live long enough to see _Felix_, of all people, make that kind of face, twisted in pain and distress.

The corners of his eyes stung suspiciously, though thankfully no tears rolled down. It appeared his newfound biology did not allow for crying, though a low, hoarse meowling sound did bubble out of his throat.

_Felix…_

He pressed his ears flat and glanced at the classroom door Felix had slammed shut behind him. It was true that he somewhat promised Professor not to stray too far, and he always made a point to stay true to his oaths, but it was just as true that Felix was already about to disappear behind the corner, and Dimitri doubted even Byleth would be fast enough to catch up to him before the swordsman could act out of line.

There was really no alternative, and after all, even in his current conditions, Dimitri was still the Blue Lions House leader. The duty to keep his classmates in check and prevent them from concocting trouble and mayhem for the Professor and the rest of the staff fell on his shoulders and his alone.

And that was made even more true considering Dimitri was the core cause of this mess in the first place. It was simply fair he be the one to put a stop to it.

It was his responsibility, and he would not shirk from it, no matter the cost.

With that decision taken, he flattened himself to the ground, hips wiggling in tense anticipation as his paws spread wide against the smooth floorboards and his claws pushed out. He focused on Felix's rapidly retreating form, light flooding his vision and blurring out all unimportant details around as his pupils dilated under the rising tide of adrenaline, of the exciting thrum of the hunt.

The same moment he released that energy, his small and lithe body all but _soaring_ and tearing through the air, covering up the distance between him and his prey in a handful of leaps, the doors to the Blue Lions class were pushed open once again.

* * *

Felix had just turned the corner when he heard someone push past the same door he'd just slammed behind him. The heavy footfalls and long - and slow, the pace of a man far too used to sit astride a mount - stride were enough for Felix to deduce who his chaser was, although that effort was soon reduced useless.

"Felix!!" Sylvain yelled after him, panting slightly as he struggled to keep up. Despite his superior height, he never managed to catch Felix once during the many games of tag they had played throughout their childhood, before Duscur happened and put an abrupt end to it. "Hold up, you dastard!!"

Felix scoffed. As if. He had meant what he spat on Ingrid's face, harsh as it was. He was tired of waiting around, of being stuck in a limbo of inaction and hoping against hope his family would be returned to him by some godly miracle. For all that he was studying and polishing his skills within a monastery, Felix never cared much for the Goddess and all of the Archbishop's rambling about her undefiable will, well before Duscur stole his brother.

He refused to believe it was Glenn's _fate_ to die slaughtered like a pig.

And he'll be _damned_ before he allowed another part of his family taken away from him. He was ready to cut down everyone who was foolish enough to stand on his path. Every last one of them.

He sped up, heading straight towards the stables. He was faster, more nimble than Sylvain, he had a more than acceptable chance to grab a horse and saddle it up before Sylvain even managed to get near him, and by then he would be nigh unreachable. Just a last dash to leave Sylvain in the dust…

And then, without any forewarning, something small and yellow dashed forward, fast as lightning itself, and latched at the light leather of his boots. Felix's balance faltered fatally, and a moment later the ground was rising up to meet him. He barely managed to raise his arms up protectively in front of his face by the time his elbows hit the courtyard floor.

At the same time, the thing that had assaulted him let out a loud, pained caterwauling as Felix's full weight fell on it.

A cat? Really?

Sputtering as he begrudgingly lifted himself on his elbows and knees, ignoring the tears in the fabric of his shirt and the shallow cuts and abrasions in the flesh of his forearms, Felix kicked out wildly his right foot, but the accursed little fleabag didn't relent its grip in the slightest. In fact, judging from the pricking feeling of claws piercing through skin, it seemed it had tightened its hold.

"Out of my way, you little sack of fur," he growled at the obstinate feline. "You hear me? Scram or I swear I'll skin you alive and make a collar out of your pelt!"

The cat meowed stubbornly - the _nerve_ of this little bastard; Felix usually appreciated cats but this one, for some unfathomable reasons, was _really_ getting on his nerves - and simply refused to let go. Felix's already frayed nerves finally gave way and his temper flared; with an aggravated grunt he rolled on his back and sat up, staring down at the obnoxious pest. Said pest regarded him with a defiant stare, unwilling to budge.

Ahh, of course the little imp just _had_ to have the boar's same color pattern. It was nobody's wonder Felix felt the mere sight of it so damn insufferable.

"Get. Off!!" He nearly bellowed as he once again tried to shake the foul beast off his leg. The cat hissed and held tighter.

Until a second, and much larger, shadow zoomed past the corner and leaped across him, pinning Felix with his back to the ground with his superior mass and weight.

"_Sylvain_!! What the hell do you think you're doing!!" Felix yelled in outrage, thrashing and flailing his limbs with all the strength he could muster. Sylvain, to his credit, took the assault surprisingly well, even when Felix's knee hit the taller boy hard in the ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Preventing you to run headlong to your death, you dunce," Sylvain grunted, oof-ing quietly when another kick slammed against his side. "Stop wiggling so much!"

The two boys wrestled savagely, all finesse abandoned as they fought with kicks, punches, and Felix even attempted to bite Sylvain's forearm where his rolled up sleeve exposed the bare skin. For several minutes they struggled, until at last Sylvain, taller and heavier, had Felix firmly secured in a headlock and lying on his stomach.

"Aha, I got you now," the taller boy smirked triumphantly despite the blood trickling down his split lip and the several bruises and cuts littering his face and wherever Felix managed to land a hit. Felix growled threateningly, though he was in hardly any better shape himself: his jaw throbbed painfully where Sylvain's fist had struck, and the band that had been keeping his hair tied at the back of his head was long gone.

"Release me at once, if you know what's best for you."

"Nope," Sylvain cheerily reply, though his smile quivered at the corners, "Not until I know for sure you're not gonna run off after Dimitri and get yourself killed in the process."

Felix elbowed him hard in the ribs, eliciting a pained - and very satisfying - groan.

"I'm more than strong enough to slay each and every foe who dares to stand in my way."

"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that," the infuriating boy singsang mockingly, but promptly parried off the second blow Felix had aimed at him. "But these guys have taken down _Dimitri_, of all people. We can't take them lightly. We need a plan of attack."

Felix scoffed. "The boar must have let his guard down. A foolish error I will not make."

"Yeah, sure, Dimitri getting distracted in battle. Him becoming a dancer is far more likely, and you know it well. You're a smart guy, Felix; what good would it do for him if you went and got yourself killed?"

Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance, but did not reply, for he too was aware of the truth in Sylvain's words. There was a lot Felix could say - and criticize - about Dimitri, but losing focus during a fight was not among that. That bitter truth flooded his mouth and he slumped in Sylvain's hold, all strength sapped from his body.

To think he'd reduce himself to act as recklessly as the boar. And _for_ the boar, just to add salt to injury.

Sensing the shift in mood, Sylvain hesitantly released him and retreated, sitting on the floor beside him as Felix too lifted himself to a sitting position, left knee pulled up to his chest and his arm slung around it.

"Fine," Felix sighed, leaning his forehead against his knee. "You win. Happy now?"

Much to his surprise, instead of the foolish gloating and smirking he was fully expecting to come his way, Sylvain didn't smile. He stared unflinchingly at Felix's hunched form, solemn and forlorn; Felix shifted in discomfort, unnerved by all that silent attention.

"Well?" He barked out. "Cat got your tongue?"

Speaking of cats, he just noticed the devilish little feline from earlier was nowhere to be seen. It must have turned tail some time during the scuffle between the two boys.

_Smart cat,_ he mused sardonically. _Unlike a certain boar._

Sylvain didn't even appear to be fazed by Felix's rudeness.

"You know, I'm pretty surprised," he said with a sigh, leaning down to rest his weight on his forearms and looking up. The night sky above was crystal clear, not a cloud in sight. Countless stars littered the dome above their heads, glinting cheerfully from their unreachable height, mockingly even, as they laughed at the futile struggles of the tiny and inconsequential humans below. "I guess that despite all that 'boar prince' jig you have going on, you still care quite a lot about His Highness, don't you?"

"Heh, wouldn't go as far as to say that. I can't stand the boar, that's for sure. His Highness is barely more tolerable."

He kicked a pebble that happened to lay near his foot. Both he and Sylvain watched without really seeing it the little stone bounce away with a quiet thudding noise.

"And what about Dimitri, then?" Sylvain asked, uncharacteristically quiet. Like Felix, he still had to tear his eyes away from the piece of gravel now lying pathetically still a few feet away, though Felix could feel the intense focus the older boy was zeroing in on him. Sylvain shuffled closer still, until their shoulders were brushing against one another.

"I… suppose I do, yes."

He cringed at his own admission, the words burning the tip of his tongue like the foulest of poisons. Out of the periphery of his vision, he could see Sylvain arched his eyebrows in mild disbelief, though he thankfully didn’t comment. Felix was already uncomfortable and embarrassed as it was, he definitely didn’t need Sylvain to twist the knife in the wound any further.

“I’m not too worried about his life and physical state, mind you,” he hurried to add before Sylvain could get the wrong idea. A suspicious heat made his neck burn and prickle. He passed a hand across his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m not that foolish, I’m perfectly aware of what he’s capable of, with that thrice accursed Crest of his. It’s his mental state that concerns me. You saw how he behaved in Remire, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sylvain agreed soberly, “He was a completely different person.”

“He’s slipping under, with every passing day and night. Always going on and on about the _dead_ and all that rubbish. What use is there in dedicating one’s life to the dead like that? That’s simply idiotic.”

“The Tragedy of Duscur was a hard blow on him. On all of us.”

Felix could feel the pity dripping thickly from Sylvain’s every word as once more Glenn’s ghost cast a long and heavy shadow over the two of them, the air growing stifling. He gritted his teeth, so hard his already injured jaw stung even more bitterly.

“That may be it, but it’s still foolish. I don’t plan on following my brother’s footsteps to the grave anytime soon, if I can help it. But he-” and here his traitorous voice faltered, emotions he never allowed to raise to the surface now bubbling out of his chest like a flood and there was just no stopping. Thank Sothis Dimitri wasn’t here to listen to him make a bumbling fool of himself mourning the Prince. “He’s not like that. He’s setting himself on the path to self destruction and there is no stopping it.”

Felix punched the ground at his side, relishing in the shockwave of pain rattling through his bones, in the feeling of scraped skin and bleeding knuckles.

“_I_ can’t stop it, no matter what I do. Nothing reaches him anymore. It’s only a matter of time before he’s too far gone, and the Dimitri I used to know finally dies at the hands of the boar.”

A heavy silence fell, choking, suffocating as it slid and coiled around his throat and pulled and pulled and pulled in a nooze. His left hand rose up to hide his face in his palm, threading his fingers in his hair.

In the end, nothing really changed since Duscur, did it? He may train all he wanted, polish his skill and grow stronger, and he was still as useless as ever.

Just as that realization hit and cut like a sharp blade pierced through flesh, something soft brushed against the back of his right hand, and Felix nearly jumped out of his skin in response, body tensing up and heart leaping up in his throat-

"Meow?"

Oh, the cat from before. He scowled as he relaxed once again, heart still hammering wildly in his ears.

"You again? Haven't you caused enough trouble already? I have to get a new pair of boots because of you, you know?"

The cat meowed softly, blatantly satisfied to have caused his daily share of mischief. It nuzzled its head against his arm with surprising strength. Sylvain chuckled.

"The little one has really taken a liking to you, hasn't it? Hey there, little buddy, come over here."

But despite Sylvain's best efforts to catch the little beast attention, the cat completely ignored him, electing instead to climb up Felix's lap and settle there.

"Oi, oi you little monster, what do you think you're doing?" Felix growled. He moved his hand to shoo the feline away before even his shirt could fall victim to the cat's deadly claws.

"Meeowww~"

Without breaking eye contact, the cat blinked slowly, paws twitching slightly against Felix's pants, and a soft, purring sound wafted off its throat, rising and falling in pitch with every breath it took.

Oh, this was simply unfair. Being adorable should definitely be considered cheating.

"Fine, you cheeky bastard," he sighed, finally surrendering to the cat's charm as he reached up to pet and scratch its head and ears. "But ruin my clothes and I swear I'm booting you into the sun."

The cat let out a quiet coo and lifted its head to bump its nose gently against Felix's knuckles.

So _unfair_.

"Aww, that's simply _adorable_," Sylvain crooned obnoxiously. "It really does suck I'm the only witness to this soft and caring you. Imagine Dimitri's face when I tell him. His eyes are going to pop out of their sockets."

The cat's ears twitched nervously, though the boys paid it no mind. Felix, in particular, was busy blanching and concocting strategies to get rid of Sylvain without anyone being the wiser. He had a reputation to uphold, for Sothis's sake.

"Tell him and you die."

Sylvain whistled. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise."

The older boy, much to Felix's chagrin, laughed. "Okay, okay. I won't pretend to understand why you want to hide the best parts of you from the rest of the world but fine, you do you." He gingerly rose to his feet and stretched, lazy and languid like a cat, eyes scrunched shut as the joints in his back and limbs clicked in place with a satisfying - and mildly sickening - pop. "Come on, little lost lamb, we gotta return to the fold or Ingrid is going to kill us both."

Felix couldn't quite stifle a groan. He had no qualms entering battle and aim straight for the strongest foe on the field, but the idea of confronting Ingrid now was enough to make his stomach queasy.

"Meow." The cat made an awkward movement, like a little nod as though to actively agree with Sylvain - what a ridiculous thought that would be - and leaped down back on the ground. It wagged its tail, looking up expectantly at him.

Really, the similarities with _him_ were uncanny.

"Fine, fine, two against one," he grabbed the hand Sylvain had extended to him and heaved himself up, cringing when he took a long look at himself and finally realized how ragged he appeared; his right pant leg was torn to shreds, as well as the upper part of boot, no doubt the result of the cat's tackle from before, and blood seeped slowly from the gashes in his skin, as well from the scratches in his forearm and temple. The tips of his hair, free from its usual restraints, tickled the edge of his now swollen jaw. Ingrid was _definitely_ going into a state over this. "But don't expect me to apologize for saying the truth."

Sylvain shrugged. He wasn't in any better shape than Felix himself, with a quickly purpling bruise now circling his eye and a split lip that definitely needed to be checked by Mercedes before it grew nasty. Sothis forbid if his skirt-chaser activities were to be compromised because of Felix. He'd take an angry Ingrid's rants over a sulking Sylvain any day.

"You, apologizing? Now _that_ would be a dead give away that someone killed you and took your place."

"Touchè."

No more words were said as the two friends slowly made their way back into the main body of the monastery, Felix limping slightly and leaning against Sylvain's shoulder for support.

Unnoticed by both, the cat trailed after them, content and satisfied with how things had turned out.

* * *

"There you are."

As Sylvain predicted - and why oh why did his predictions turn out to be true only when contemplating the worst case scenario, Sylvain bemoaned internally - Ingrid was there, standing still in the middle of the entrance hall, arms crossed tight in front of her chest and legs slightly parted.

And boy oh boy, saying she was pissed off was the biggest understatement of the century.

Perhaps feeling the downright murderous aura wafting in dark and powerful waves from the furious Pegasus Rider - and here Sylvain cast a quick cursory glance to see if perhaps she had brought a lance with her, which no doubt would have meant impending death for the both of them - Felix stiffened and stopped dead in his tracks. He scowled at Ingrid, who returned the look just as fiercely.

Yikes. This was going real south real fast.

"What do you want?"

_Felix, you dumbass! At least don't make it any worse!!_

Ingrid's left eye twitched dangerously, a sign Sylvain had long learned to positively dread. Last time it happened, her rage had lasted for days on end.

At least this time he wasn't the recipient of Ingrid's infamous wrath, for once. That was definitely a nice change of pace.

With calculated slowness, Ingrid unfolded her arms and stepped forward with long and rhythmic strides that would make any soldier drool in envy. Her hands were fisted tightly at her sides and now that she was getting closer Sylvain could finally see the angry red bruising rimming her eyes and the darkened streaks running down her cheeks. His heart sank, and even Felix's scowl turned somewhat guilty.

She pulled to a halt in front of Felix, eyes ablaze with a fury words would never be enough to encompass. Slowly, she lifted her dominant arm.

Felix flinched and closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.

Which never came.

Instead, she rushed forward and burrowed herself into Felix's chest, her arms coiling firmly around his waist to keep him in place.

Well, damn. Now Sylvain was feeling jealous. How come Ingrid never hugged _him_ when he did something that pissed her off? That was so unfair!

"What the hell are you doing, woman?!?" Felix spluttered, face flushed an angry red as he flailed helplessly, trying and failing majestically to free himself from Ingrid's hold. To see him so flustered was at least proving to be quite entertaining for sure.

"I was afraid you had already left without me!" she whispered. "Don't do that ever again!"

Over Ingrid's head, Felix threw Sylvain a look he could only describe as a perfect mix of utter panic and pure terror. It took all of Sylvain's self composure not to burst out laughing, but as the great - amazing, if he said so himself - friend he was, he successfully refrained from doing so now that his friend was so openly begging for aid. Instead, he felt magnanimous enough to gesture Felix to _comfort her already, you dastard_.

Felix awkwardly patted Ingrid's shoulder, stiff as a board as though he was afraid he was going to have his palm burned to ashes if he dared to prolong the physical contact.

Who knew Dimitri had some strong competition in the 'hopeless around women' department. Truly, Felix could give His Highness a real run for his money.

Ingrid sniffled loudly and reluctantly pulled away.

"Don't run off without me like that," she said, "I too am tired to be the one left behind. I cannot bear the thought of losing any of you."

Felix nodded stiffly, clearly at a loss for words. Sylvain snickered quietly, letting him stew in his discomfort for a little while before stepping in to save the day.

"So, now that that's settled," he said, "No hugs for yours truly?"

Ingrid scoffed, though she grinned and pulled him in the most rib-crushingly painful hug Sylvain had ever been inflicted.

"I guess you deserved it this time around, Sylvain," she sing sang as she released him and he was left wincing and panting. "Don't get used to it."

"Oh trust me, there's no danger of that."

"Besides, he was not the one who truly stopped me," Felix, the backstabber, piped up, just as the cat from before emerged once again, rubbing against Felix's legs. "This little devil here was."

"The real MVP of the situation, yeah," Sylvain agreed with a short laugh. Ingrid gasped at the sight and immediately fell to her knees to take a better look to their new furred friend. "Tackled Felix down like a champ."

"That beast tripped me up. Talk about playing dirty."

"All is fair in love and war, Felix my dear."

"Oh, shut up, you insatiable flirt."

"Will you two ever quit it, I wonder." Ingrid shook her head, her smile growing wider and fonder. Gently she picked the cat up, cradling it against her chest and over her shoulder. What a lucky little bastard. "How about we pick a name for our new friend over here?"

"Friend?" Felix sounded positively horrified, "I'm no friend of that demon."

"Actually, I don't even know whether it's a dashing young lad or a charming lady. We should probably check," Sylvain said as he tried to take the animal from Ingrid, but had to hurriedly take a step back to dodge a fast sweep that would have probably gouged his eye out if it hit. "Alright there, tiger, I get it, you're a guy, no need to make a fuss about that."

"Call him 'Boarling'. He has the same attitude."

Sylvain pulled a face, but Ingrid seemed to consider Felix's suggestion seriously.

"He does somewhat resemble His Highness, though," she mused, hooking her hands under the cat's fore legs and lifting him up so that they were on the same eye level. He meowed softly. "How about Dima?"

"I'm sure Dimitri is going to be _thrilled_ to know you named a cat after him, In."

"If Felix calls him Boar and can get away with it I don't see why not," Ingrid deadpanned without missing a beat. "I personally wouldn't mind."

"I guess 'Sylvain' would make a fine name for a rooster then."

"I sense a certain veil of sarcasm in your tone, Felix, which I'll pretend I didn't notice."

Ingrid sighed as the two boys resumed their back and forth, bickering like an old married couple. Some things just didn't change, even in the face of tragedy. She held the cat tighter against her. For some reason, she found his presence oddly comforting.

"Welcome to the Blue Lions, Dima."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petition to have Dimitri stop tripping people up


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahhh I'm sorry I'm so late!! Last week was a little busy and I got started much later than usual, not to mention the many difficulties the first part of this chapter presented, slowing it down even further. Regardless, once I got it going I kinda never stopped, so at least it was fun lol Some parts are a bit stiff and weird, and perhaps a bit too OOC, but I'm still kinda proud of it overall lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

The following day, instructing was a somber business.

Sleep had been eluding Byleth the whole night despite the physical and mental exhaustion that the day's events had stacked together as images of every wicked torture or experiment being inflicted on Dimitri that Byleth could conjure filled her vision every time she tried to let her eyelids drift close.

The sense of loss only increased tenfold when the classroom filled up, her students looking as downtrodden as she felt. The empty seat at the very first row, right in front of the teacher's desk, was like a magnet, a void that sucked everyone in, and several times she caught her students throw a pained glance at the empty chair, only to avert it back to their notes a second later, as though they had stumbled something scandalous.

Byleth didn't have the heart to reprimand them for the lack of focus. Especially since she herself felt her eyes linger on Dimitri's empty spot, missing dearly his eager interventions. She never realized before how much her _unconventionally engaging_ classes, as Hanneman had put it, relied on Dimitri's participance: he served as her support and the driving force of the whole class, a mediator between professor and students, and also helped her avoid tiresome and clumsy tirades on the day's topic. She still wasn't exactly the best at stringing up long speeches, as she herself wasn't fond to listen to people droning on and on for hours with little chances to practice.

At last, the bell chimed and she dismissed the class. She was not surprised - and was rather relieved, to be honest - to see nobody felt like straggling behind to pose her a question. They filed out of the room, silent and grim, each drowning in their own form of grief. Byleth included.

_"You guys sure love the boy, I say._ Sothis piped up. _"But don't forget the other one."_

Of course she hadn't forgotten about Marianne, Byleth thought with a frown as she cleared off the desk of her notes and graphics she regularly used as teaching props. This too was a small chore Dimitri often helped her with, despite the many and gradually feebler protests.

The silence that now filled the room pressed against her eardrums, deafening and oppressive. It felt off. Wrong.

Perhaps Sothis was right; she _was_ fond of the young Prince, far more than she'd first thought she'd be. How curious.

_"Oh dear, you're truly hopeless, aren't you?"_ Sothis griped dramatically, and Byleth frowned, confused and mildly affronted. What did she mean by _hopeless_?

_"Never you mind,"_ was the goddess's hasty and fairly cryptic reply. _"Let's drop by the greenhouse to pick up a bouquet to leave at Marianne's bedside, shall we? If I recall correctly, that's common practice among you humans, isn't it?"_

Was it really? Byleth certainly had no memory of it. Jeralt was not one for waste time and resources in futile gifts. Vulneraries and herbal concoctions were far more preferable for a get well gift than a mere bunch of colorful flowers whose aim was to look pretty. Besides, what was the point if the recipient was unconscious and unable to appreciate their beauty? Really, no matter how hard she tried, Byleth would never truly understand the nobles's ever so complicated customs.

Sothis huffed. _"I admit you rise a few good points, fine. But is it really so bad? Manuela is the best physician you'll find in many miles, surely she has no need for one more vulnerary, does she? On the other hand, flowers would help lighten the ambience, give a touch of color…"_

Oh, now Byleth understood. Sothis wanted to pick flowers just for the fun of it.

_"W-Well, flowers _are_ beautiful, and graceful, and feminine… Not that you would know what feminine even means, but…_

Byleth rolled her eyes; Sothis had been on her case since the time Byleth admitted to be lacking of any form of interest for the Heron Cup and the yearly ball. Apparently, Fòdlan's local divine protector was an avid dancer on top of her godly status.

But she supposed Sothis had a point, all things considered; Manuela could work just fine with her magic skills, making a vulnerary obsolete and frankly useless, and Marianne - unlike Byleth herself - _was_ feminine and demure. Byleth had no trouble picturing her in a vast field, threading stems together to make beautiful crowns of flowers like the ones she once saw the women of Remire village do. She clearly remembered an elder lady once gifted a beautiful crown to Byleth during a festival which involved insane amounts of food, alcohol and dancing; she had ended up wearing it every day until the flowers withered and their petals fell apart, much to Jeralt's hilarity.

"Fine, then, you win." she said quietly, smiling despite herself when Sothis cheered happily. "But if it ends up being unpleasant or inappropriate, I'm shifting the blame on you."

_"And people would certainly take you seriously, I'll bet,"_ was Sothis's snarky reply. _"But fine by me. You're the one who's going to pass as crazy."_

* * *

As Byleth readjusted the small bundle of daisies in her hand - Gerberas, the kind lady at the greenhouse called them - she supposed it could have gone way worse. Sothis had let loose with the colors, resulting in a ball of more or less saturated reds and yellows and every shade in the color spectrum in between that truly packed a punch in the eye. Byleth would have preferred something leaning towards azure and lilac, quieter, like Marianne herself, but Sothis had vehementedly protested and rejected all her meager attempts at throwing a couple of forget-me-nots in the bunch.

She raised her free hand and rapped her knuckles on the infirmary door three times in quick succession. She heard a shifting sound, the scraping noise of a chair being dragged against the floor, of light feet approaching the door cautiously.

"Who is it?" A voice demanded, just as the door cracked open and a rose colored eye peered inquisitively through the newly formed gap.

"Good morning, Hilda." Byleth greeted with a smile.

"Oh, it's you, Professor! My apologies, Professor Manuela had to temporarily leave to see Professor Hanneman and she entrusted the place to me." All wary animosity bled away from the young lady of Goneril as she flung the door wide open. "Please come in."

Hilda stepped aside, politely holding the door open for Byleth to enter Manuela's office and infirmary, and closing it shut behind her back. Byleth held up her small bouquet.

"Here, for Marianne."

"Ooh, Gerberas." Hilda cooed sweetly, taking the proffered flowers and leading her the one bed that was covered from view by a folding screen. "How lovely! Thank you, Professor. I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture."

Inside her mind, Sothis pumped her fist in triumph. _"Ha! Told you so!"_

She pulled the screen open, revealing Marianne's unconscious form, still like a statue were it not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest under the protective cocoon of pristine white sheets and covers draped over her. A lump formed in Byleth's throat at the sight of the slumbering girl, her azure curls undone and splayed around her head like a wavy halo against the pillow. She looked, if possible, even more tiny and frail than usual.

She hastily averted her eyes, focusing instead on the explosion of colors that had engulfed Marianne's bedside. It looked like someone had unloaded a whole greenhouse on the nightstand until the poor piece of furniture collapsed under the sheer weight of greenery. In comparison, Byleth's bouquet was a really tiny, tame little offering.

"This is Lorenz's doing, by the way," Hilda gestured absently to what seemed like entire bushes of red roses lying at the foot of Marianne's bed as she placed Byleth's flowers in a vase nearby that by some miracle was available. "He went a little overboard, didn't he?"

"A little," Byleth shrugged, "At least they smell very nice."

Hilda chuckled, though it was weak and frail, tired. She sounded a bit like Marianne herself. "Oh yes, they certainly do. Roses are Marianne's favorite flowers, after all."

Byleth had to commend Hilda's effort to put on a brave smile despite the circumstances. She would even fall for it, were it not for how dishevelled Hilda appeared, a far cry from her well groomed self; her hair, usually so well styled and carefully pinned up in perfect twintails, was messy and tangled at the ends, her pigtails tied loosely and asymmetrical, and the dark shadows that so often marred Marianne's face had now migrated on Hilda, undeniable proof of a sleepless night. Even her clothes were less cured, put on more haphazardly, more wrinkled, not a ghost of one of Hilda's favorite accessories to lighten her look.

In other words, Hilda looked plainly miserable, as Byleth had never seen her before. The instinct to pull the younger girl into a protective hug grew stronger.

"How is she?" She said instead, struggling to keep her voice even, and that was all it took for Hilda's smile to crumble like a castle of cards.

"Not well. Physically, she seems to be fine. Manuela patched her concussion up in no time, and she doesn't appear to bear other injuries."

Good news then. But it didn't fit with the fact Marianne was still comatose, nor with Hilda's grim expression. Dread bubbled up at the pit of her stomach, bitter and scalding.

"But then-"

Hilda gulped heavily. "Even Manuela doesn't know what's up with her. She thinks it might be an effect of Marianne's Crest. Somehow, it activated during the assault, presumably in self defense, and now it's preventing her from waking up, for some reason; maybe a strange reaction to a wayward spell. That's why Manuela went to see Hanneman. She hopes his knowledge on Crests will shed some light on the matter; for the time being, all her magic can do is to keep Marianne as stable as possible."

Hilda heaved an exhausted sigh and let herself fall heavily on the chair nearest to Marianne's bedside. She leaned over to reach for the unconscious girl's hand that was peeking out of the covers, and gently threaded their fingers together, squeezing lightly. Skin to skin, Marianne's unhealthy - and here Byleth struggled not to call it _deathly_ \- pallor was even more apparent.

"This was not what I meant when I said you should take a nap, Marianne." Hilda murmured, "Please wake up soon. Being lazy doesn't suit you at all."

Her voice cracked suspiciously and a sniffle escaped her lips as she hunched forward, her long rosy tresses cascading down and past her shoulders to act like curtains, hiding her eyes from view.

And once again Byleth felt that now increasingly familiar pain bloom in her chest like a bloody rose, spreading its deadly petals wider and wider the more Hilda fed it with her tears. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides and it wasn't without a certain amount of surprise that she found herself shaking ever so slightly, every muscle tense and taut nearly to snapping point, craving action, burning with the desire to _protect_ Hilda, Marianne, Dimitri, every student or staff member of the monastery she was too quick to call home, her _first_ proper home.

And whoever was responsible for this was going to _pay_.

Within her veins, Sothis's magic thrummed excitedly, the power to twist and spin the whole fabric of time pooling at the tips of her fingers. That was all she needed to know Sothis shared the sentiment

"Professor," Hilda broke Byleth out of her raging thoughts. "Is there any lead on who the perpetrators might be?"

"Not yet," Byleth replied truthfully, regardless of how she longed to offer Hilda a better answer. "But I believe in Jeralt. I'm sure he'll find out soon enough."

Hilda nodded. Her hold on Marianne's hand grew tighter.

"Claude once said he'd be looking forward to the day something inspired me to try my absolute hardest," she said as she slowly, almost lazily, rose to her feet. But although her posture was relaxed and laid back, there was nothing lazy in the way her eyes glinted, incensed with fury. "Well, I think that day has finally arrived. Please take me with your class once Jeralt has news. I would love to personally make sure they know what a mistake was to mess with Marianne."

Her voice hadn't raised one bit, perhaps even got lower, and yet Byleth felt herself stagger back as thought she had been physically pushed aside. A chill rattled her bones down to their marrow, goosebumps littered her skin as Hilda - lazy Hilda who never saw the worth of putting in effort in what she did - pleaded to be the one to administer justice on her friend's sake.

Byleth was not known for expressing fear on the battlefield, but the feeling assaulting her as Hilda's eyes were locked on hers, firm in cold determination and fiery wrath, might as well come close to that.

She didn't have the heart to say no, especially since she herself was in the same position as Hilda.

She nodded and Hilda flashed her the first genuine smile Byleth had seen on her face the entire time they'd been conversing.

She wondered whether she had just finished creating a monster.

* * *

Technically speaking, he shouldn't be here.

He should be a good boy and follow the Archbishop's instructions to retire for the night as soon as the sun fell past the horizon and stay in his bed, safe and sound, lest divine punishment befell upon him.

That's what he should do. That's what responsible, good children like Edelgard and Dimitri were supposed to do, and he could see them acting accordingly, to set a good example for their fellow classmates if nothing less.

Claude, noble extraordinaire he was, thought that was extremely dull. After all, what purpose was there to life without the thrill of the danger, the rush of the discovery, the _elation_ of the adventure. None at all, and that's why boring and stuck up royals were fated to forever stay boring and stuck up.

So he said as he checked his dark lantern for the umpteenth time to make sure it let out just enough light for him to see where he was going and not to be spotted by the guards. Rhea was perhaps many things, not all of them positive, but never let it be said she didn't take safety measures lightly. It took every drop of cunning Claude possessed to avoid the patrolling knights that now roamed the empty monastery at night, and even then there had been a couple of close calls he didn't exactly enjoy. He didn't even want to think what would happen if Rhea's henchmen found him snooping around suspiciously by night; his long awaited dream would probably crumble to dust as soon as the Archbishop understood what he was trying to do. Honestly, he would deem himself insanely lucky if he managed to escape the ordeal with his life, and he wouldn't be surprised if he too was made to 'disappear', much like Dimitri had. It would be laughably easy for Rhea to do so without raising much suspicions.

So that was what had happened, then? Had Dimitri found out something not exactly holy and pious about the Archbishop, and she terminated him?

Or perhaps the Empire was behind this? The young Princess surely looked uncomfortable beneath her usual cold countenance when he tried to rattle her up. He would say Hubert's particularly violent reaction was a dead giveaway, but he knew better; that was just Hubert being his obnoxious self.

Still, he could help but have a feeling the Crests were involved, somehow. He hadn't even known Marianne _bore_ a Crest at all before this morning, when he just so happened to listen in to Hanneman and Manuela talking and tinkering with the man's Crest device.

Interesting. Very interesting. This needed to be researched thoroughly, without disturbance. Researching Crests without raising suspicions had turned immensely harder since Seteth had taken over Tomas's librarian duties after the latter's betrayal. Even Claude wasn't daring enough to go snooping around right under the nose of Rhea's right hand man.

He peeked around the corner, ears strained to pick up even the faintest shuffling noise. The corridor was empty, all torches long blown off and cold. Coast clear.

With a resigned sigh, he darted forward, cowering in the shadows until he reached the objective of his nightly sortie.

He carefully settled down the lantern on the floor beside him as he kneeled in front of the library door and examined the heavy lock, tugging on it and weighting it in his hands. It was sturdy, but fairly ancient. Hopefully it wouldn't be excessively hard to pick open.

As he reached into his satchel tied at his waist and fetched a hairpin he _borrowed_ from Hilda while she wasn't looking - that girl owned so many fancy hair accessories that surely she wouldn't miss a dull hairpin, right? He would return it to her before she even realized it was missing in the first place - Claude could not help but feel grateful for his less than noble upbringing. He'd take lockpicking over boring waltzing any day.

For real, Fódland nobles had no idea of what a true feast even _was_.

The pin twisted in the keyhole, each tick blasting like catapult pellets in the eerie silence. Every few tries, he stopped to listen, ready to bolt the moment he heard someone approaching. His whole body was starting to feel sore from the sheer tension.

"Come on, baby. Don't be so stubborn."

But the Goddess must have been smiling down at him, for the lock gave a final snap and fell open with a soft whine.

"There you go, good girl."

With a satisfied grin that definitely was _not_ smug, not in the least, he slid off the chain and set it down. Wincing slightly as he pushed himself back on his feet, he picked the lantern up and finally entered the library, holding his breath until he heard the door click close behind his back.

Ahh, finally, time to nose around to his heart's content without Seteth breathing down on his neck.

"Let's see what treasures you hold, shall we?"

He decided to jump straight ahead to the second floor, hoping to find some more information on the Crests and their powers, rather than their lineage and political involvement. He found it interesting that the monastery's library, so rich and exhaustive on every other topic human mind had ever conceived and dwelled upon, could be so lacking on the Crests. It was almost as though Rhea made sure no detailed information on their origins - past the canonical _Blessing of the Goddess _ spiel Rhea was all too happy to subject anyone more or less willing to listen - was ever to be found.

But then again, Tomas knew. He was well informed of the bloody history of the Relics, of the curse they bore alongside the Crests.

And that picture… the Immaculate One, said to be sent by the Sothis herself, with a crest stone embedded in its forehead-

_THUD!_

The lantern nearly fell out of Claude's grasp; his heart skipped a beat, only to pick up a galloping pace as he instinctively reached for the dagger at his waist. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing. He quickly scanned the looming darkness ahead, careful keep a reasonable distance between himself and the stairs. Should things turn out for the worse, he needed to bail out of here as soon as possible.

A shuffling noise. Something was moving.

What to do? He was alone, in a fairly isolated location. He could not hope for support, if he found himself outmatched. Perhaps he should have let Hilda in his scheme this time around. At least she could pick from where he'd left if he happened to kick the bucket here.

More shuffling, louder, more frantic. He was spotted. His grip on the dagger tightened with a strength he never knew he possessed, fueled by the rush of adrenaline and fear.

"Who's there?"

Silence.

Then-

"_Meeeeooowwww!!_"

He nearly dropped the weapon in surprise.

_Are you kidding me?!?_

Shaking and feeling dizzy from all the sudden emotional whiplash, Claude hesitantly took a trembling step towards the corner the noise had come from, diving into the dark until he came across a lump of what soon revealed themselves to be books, lying splayed on the floor as though they had been carelessly tossed off their spot on the shelves.

The lump shook as Claude pointed his lantern at it.

"Meoowww~"

"Sothis almighty," he cursed weakly, clutching his chest as he once again dropped to a knee and leaned the lantern down. "I swear you just sheared five years off my lifespan. What are you even doing here? If Seteth finds you, he's going to skin you alive."

Slowly, but meticulously, he began picking up the fallen books, still dazzled by the absurdity of it all. He was a guy with an open mind, but he was definitely not expecting to find a cat loitering around in the library, which had been sealed off to the public for hours. The little feline must have sneaked in before curfew fell, lying quiet until it had the library all for itself.

Very strange. Not impossible but definitely pretty up there in the list of weird things Claude had seen since he set foot in this monastery.

Besides, the cat had quite a _taste_, he noticed as he slowly sorted the books into piles based on topic. Crests compendiums, history records, legends and myths tomes… all topics he himself was very interested in and which he had been eager to brave Rhea's wrath to find out more about.

Definitely a strange coincidence.

At last, the weight of knowledge pinning down the little bookworm - or should he say, bookcat - lifted up enough to allow it to peek its head out. Blue eyes blinked sheepishly.

"Meow."

"Oh hey, I know you!" Claude reached down to boop the cat's nose, chuckling in amusement when it tried and failed to retreat from his touch, pale whiskers pointed ahead. "You're that cat that's recently taken to hang around the Blue Lions class, aren't you? Dima, right?"

Dima let out a soft, almost embarrassed meow that instantly revealed why the Blue Lions had named him after their vanished prince. He did look and sound just like Dimitri, bashful and almost too easy to tease.

“Troublemaker like your namesake, aren’t you? Just don’t pull a disappearing act like him, alright? Everyone here has been miserable ever since - Teach in particular.”

He kept piling up books - some of which _very interesting_ indeed - until the feline managed to climb out on his own and leaped down with a soft thudding noise beside Claude. He shook off with such force that he nearly toppled down, tufts of pale gold fur flying off his back like tiny yellowish snowflakes.

“There you go, little one. You better turn tail before someone finds you.”

Dima tilted his head up quizzically, tail lashing out in confusion. “Meow?”

“Who, me?” Claude pointed at himself, and he could swear the cat just scoffed, as though wondering _who else?_, which actually was a legitimate question. It just stung to be called out so blatantly by a cat. “I’m alright. I need to look something up before bailing. Actually, you kind of made my life easier here. I was hoping to find out more about Crests, and here you were, literally _buried_ in them. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He sat down on the floor and reached for a particularly massive tome about ancient noble lines, fully intending to lose himself in the read until dawn caught up on him, but his most unusual companion seemed to have other plans: he swiped and batted Claude’s hand away with his paw - and here Claude was thankful the cat didn’t pull his claws out, or his hand would have been torn to shreds - before he could grab the book.

“Hey, what’s the big deal? I can’t read now? This is a free library, you know?”

“_Meooow._”

Oh, this time little Dima _definitely_ rolled his eyes. Then he strutted to the nearest pile of books and lifted himself on his hind legs, his lithe body stretched out as he leaned his fore paws against them, squinting in the dim light of the lanter to read the titles embedded on the spines.

Wait, _read_? Cats couldn’t read. Surely he was just, er, looking at them or something, perhaps entranced by the glittering gilded letters, like magpies do. Yeah, that was far more reasonable.

Claude had barely enough time to complete that line of thought that Dima let out a long mewling noise and patted his right paw against a particular, ancient-looking tome. Claude picked his lantern up and leaned in to see just what could catch a cat’s attention so keenly.

“‘_Faerghusian Myths and Legends of Yore_’, huh,” Claude read out loud, tapping his chin. “What, you miss our dear Princeling too? Welcome to the club, kitty cat, and take your number; there’s a queue to cry over the ever so handsome Blaiddyd boy.”

Dima hissed and swiped again, but this time Claude was prepared and managed to dodge the blow. The cat growled in annoyance, a deep, rumbling noise that sounded far more threatening than Claude would given him credit for.

“Alright, alright, it’s a touchy topic. Fine. Now can I get back to my research?”

The growling intensified. Claude had a feeling the cat wouldn’t leave him alone until he indulged him. It would be better for everyone if he just got this nuisance over with as soon as possible.

“Fine, you win. I’ll take it out for you, and that will be it, right?”

He pried it off the pile, oofing ever so slightly when the sheer weight of it fell in full on his arms. Weight lifting had never been his thing. He’d let people like Raphael and Dimitri take care of that, any time.

He maneuvered it down to lay it against the floor in front of the expectant cat.

“All yours. Have fun.”

But Dima did not look _happy_ at all, nor amused. He kept on staring unflinchingly at Claude. It was positively unnerving.

"What the hell, I'm taking orders from a cat… What's in here that's so interesting to you?"

He flipped the tome open and rapidly skimmed through the pages, barely stopping to read the ever so popular tale of Loog the King of Lions, Savior King, Pride of Faerghus and yadda yadda, always the same old thing.

That is, until Dima placed a paw on the page he was on and forced him to stop.

"What is- ahh, I see. You like the Crest of Blaiddyd, huh? Can't say I blame you, that strength could come in handy…"

He trailed off as he read the long paragraph under the Crest effigy, interest suddenly piqued once again when his eyes fell upon a particular line.

"The strength of a lion, huh…" He muttered absently. "I wonder…"

Loog, the King of Lions, the one who was thought to be bestowed the strength and bravery of a lion by the goddess herself. Some, like the author of this particular tome, went as far as to call him a lion through and through.

Surely, most people would take it as a mere epithet, a metaphor of his physical prowess and wisdom. Surely, that was what this book was aiming at.

But the Immaculate One, the Crest Stone engraved in its forehead… what if it wasn't the only creature which could transform into a whole another shape? Perhaps with the use of an item, a stone - a Crest stone? Hm, now he was getting ahead of himself, let's call it Beast Stone for now - Loog had been able to shapeshift into a true, honest-to-Sothis lion.

And if Loog _was_ a lion, that could only mean-

"Meow?"

For an aeon-long instant, human and cat stared at each other, a tense silence filled to the brim with foggy and bizarre truths stretching between them.

Then, Claude heaved a defeated sigh, his shoulders sagging.

"Ugh, now _that_ is a farfetched theory." He pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut so forcefully that speckles of colorful lights dotted the darkness enshrouding his vision. "I must be far more tired than I believed to even entertain such thoughts. These last few days have stressed us all out of our minds."

There was absolutely no shred of proof anything of the sort ever happened. No form of record or report on humans changing forms to beasts and vice versa, only a vague collection of myths recounted poorly. Nothing truly solid to base a theory on. There were several documents proving the Immaculate One _had_ existed at some point in history, that was an established truth. But this? Utter rubbish. Besides, the Blaiddyd family line would have been hard pressed to keep such a skill so well concealed for thousands of years.

It just… couldn't be.

But didn't Dimitri once say the blood had been gradually thinning over time, as each passing generation kept producing less and less Crest bearers? Would it not be possible that the ability to shapeshift into a full fledged lion had been lost alongside the major Crest of Blaiddyd, and only the enhanced physical strength of a lion had passed over within the form of a minor Crest?

And assuming that was true, absurd as it may sound, would that mean the guys who took Flayn's blood knew about it? Did they plan to exploit that power for their own gain, the way they did with Flayn? Would mixing up a major Crest such as Flayn's, even if it belonged to an entirely different bloodline, with Dimitri's minor Crest awaken that power anew?

Claude felt his mouth go dry, a slight tremor quaking him to the marrow, for the most important question was not whether that dormant power would regain vitality, but…

What would happen to Dimitri, if the abductors succeeded in their blood experiment? Would he manage to control that power, or would he lose himself to it?

A lump formed at the back of Claude's throat, bitter and suffocating.

All of a sudden, finding the missing Prince quickly had become much more urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Claude, you're so close to the truth and yet so far away at the same time, it's downright frustrating XD
> 
> But yeah, here is the concept that kickstarted this whole mess, Laguz!Dimitri. Or, at least, descendant of a Laguz lol I have no qualms admitting I envision Loog as a blonde and blue Caineghis. I love that guy, he's just _so cool_. I mean, the whole shapeshifting concept that was used many times throughout the series was seriously amazing, I loved it to bits, and I was a little peeved to find 3H had done away with the shapeshifters that weren't manaketes - I want my animal friends back, IntSys, what is this discrimination TT___TT
> 
> Anyway, feel free to let me know your opinions, suggestions and whatever you feel like! This game and its characters are consuming my soul and I can't stop rambling about it lol


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not proud of this one, but I was growing frustrated, and stuff is coming up so who knows when I'll be able to pick this fic up again, so here it is nonetheless. Shoutout to Werehogdog for the adorable prompt, though I'm afraid I didn't do it justice at all. I'll try again on a later chapter T_T I'm so sorry T_T
> 
> Anyhow, minor TW for xenophobic/racist slurs and animal abuse. It's extremely mild and done by a group of dumb kids who don't know any better, but better be safe than sorry. Pls don't be like those kids, that's not cool.

Well, that was a blast, Dimitri thought angrily. He was sure he'd lead Claude on the right path, dropped all the hints he could, and yet the ever so clever young Duke had not picked up on them in the least. If anything, earlier Dimitri spotted him talking animatedly with Professor once classes were over, both wearing an expression of intense concern while speaking. He could only conclude Claude was relaying her all the information he had found and the possible involvement of Crests in the disappearance of the prince. Which wasn't entirely off track, to be honest.

Still, the whole ordeal was quickly starting to grow frustrating, if not straight up infuriating. Back when he was little more than a baby - and Father was alive to tell him tales of old to make him fall asleep, he remembered with a stab of painful longing - there was a particular legend that was passed from generation to generation, regarding Loog and his lineage. He could remember the amusement on Lambert's face as Dimitri listened, absolutely enraptured, to the tales of Loog, a man so strong and brave the Goddess had made him a lion itself. It was believed the enhanced strength blessed by the Blaiddyd Crest was a byproduct of that power, which had long been lost to time. Lambert always made sure to point out how it was merely a legend, a romanticized and vague version of history, and that a good ruler should not lose themselves in rickety recounts of the past, but focus on the present and future to come.

Dimitri decided not to dwell on the dark irony in that particular statement. Now was not the time, and it would only serve as make Dimitri's intolerance towards his condition even more pronounced.

Unbidden, memories he thought long lost of Dimitri and Glenn - occasionally joined by Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid - playing together flashed at the forefront of his mind, images of Dimitri play pretending to be a lion and roaring with all the might a eight years old boy could manage while Glenn laughed so hard his training sword was about to slip free from his slackened grip, and then it was Glenn's turn to roar and Dimitri laughed until the corners of his eyes stung and his whole belly hurt from the spasms of nigh hysterical laughter.

Almost an entire decade had gone by since then. He hadn't had a good laugh such as that in quite some time - _"Four years,"_ Glenn whispered mockingly in his ear _"How much longer till you avenge us, kitty cat." _ \- and even less the time to waste upon legends and fairy tales meant for children.

Until, apparently, they proved to be true, at least to some degree.

Sulking, Dimitri coiled his now overly flexible and lithe body tighter around himself, curling up in a ball on the ground. His tail swished up and down,angrily drumming against the floor, as he watched the sparring pair that had been hogging up the training hall for the better part of the afternoon, no words exchanged in between the two but the deafening clang of metal against metal as they danced a deadly rhythm and whirled and parried, their swords singing with every clash of their training swords.

As Felix slashed wildly at Byleth, all grace and desperation and killing intent, only for Byleth to deflect the blow and offer a swiftly counterattack that Felix had to somersault away to narrowly dodge, Dimitri felt his fur stand on end. What would he be willing to give to be in Felix’s place right now, polishing his skills with the sword with none other than the second best swordswoman in the entire continent, to be the cause of the slight flush painting her cheeks a lovely rosy shade as she slashed and spun as though she was made of water rather than flesh and bone, her movements fluid and unyielding, glowing of an otherworldly grace Dimitri knew no other mere mortal would ever match.

His eyes, traitorous little things, wandered downwards, where her tight bodice hugged snugly the slim waist like a second skin, her shapely form fully exposed to him now that she had cast her cloak aside in the heat of the battle, and he could make out a thin sheen of perspiration coating her flushed skin, a bead slowly trickling down her chin, then down along her neck, pooling into the shallow dip between her collarbones and then _further down_, disappearing into-

He squeezed his eyes shut as shameful heat set his body ablaze at the memory of those slender and yet so strong arms wrapped loosely - protectively - around himself. A pleasant shiver rattled his bones as he remembered how sheltered and safe he had felt as she gently pressed him close to herself, the most secure he had been in the last four years. So much, in fact, that he had completely forgot himself and allowed his newly born feline instincts to take over and eagerly pressed his paws against her chest, the soft flesh moulding pliantly under the pressure.

Dimitri groaned at the embarrassing memory - or rather, he would groan, if only he were able to. As it stood, only a soft and strangled gurgling sound came out of his mouth, quickly drowned off by the sound of the two blades clashing. Another stab of something hot and vile - jealousy, envy - made his stomach churn.

He could not bear to watch Felix and Byleth spar any longer, lest he did something stupid and selfish. It was better if he left the training halls and took a walk into the courtyard; perhaps some fresh air would do him good.

In the days he found himself stuck in this new body of his, he was quick to discover a certain change in his habits. As a kid, he'd never been one for climbing, or for heights in general, something Glenn and Felix always used to tease him about. Glenn especially would often make use of his nimbler build to leap up a tree's trunk, far out of Dimitri's reach, and sit astride a thick branch, swinging his legs and playfully taunting Dimitri. No matter how hard Dimitri tried, his chubby and graceless hands would never bring him anywhere near close to Glenn.

Now, though, it came to him easily, almost as natural as breathing. He hardly had to _think_ as his body moved entirely on its own and effortlessly scaled the sturdy trunk, his claws hooking into the rough bark and his muscles propelling him upwards with ease until he finally landed on a branch wide enough for him to lay down on his side.

It was surprisingly nice. Safe even, knowing that danger could hardly find its way all the way up there without him knowing. Before he knew it, a deep sense of contentment fell upon him like a sheet and his lids were growing suspiciously heavy…

Until something pointy and hard surged up and hit him squarely on his half-exposed stomach, startling him awake. At the same time, shrill giggles wafted up from the base of the tree, and that was enough for Dimitri's blood to instantly run cold.

"_Kitty!!_"

Oh. Oh, _no_.

With death in his heart, Dimitri straightened up and peered down, and indeed there they were, a gaggle of children around eight to twelve years old huddled together at the foot of the tree, all of them staring up at him with an excited grin that had Dimitri recoil in horror. A couple of them, presumably the eldest and ringleaders, were holding a few pebbles, not unlike the one that had so rudely arose Dimitri from his relaxing rest.

"Kitty!!" One of them - a young girl with brown hair neatly tied in two low plaits - cooed again, extending a hand as to beckon him closer. "Come playing with us!"

In response, Dimitri scooted further back, eliciting a choir of disappointed boos and scoffs. A pebble bounced off the branch he was resting on, missing him by a mere couple of inches.

Heart hammering wildly, he wondered what to do now. He knew well they weren't bad kids per se - he had been teaching the basics of swordsmanship to a few of them, with Professor's ever so helpful assistance - but he also knew how easily they could get, uh, _overly excited_ about new things. He still remembered how nerve-wrackingly insisting they had grown before he finally caved in and agreed to give them a few fencing lessons. He never once regretted it, for he had been quick to grow fond of them and seeing them succeed filled his heart with pride, though they had certainly went all out to drive him crazy before he agreed to it.

He guessed he could indulge them a bit, and just run for the hills should their attentions prove to be exceedingly overwhelming. That would be a reasonable compromise.

Nonetheless, his ears flattened and his fur rose on its end. On instinct, he tucked his tail securely under himself.

"Come on, kitty!!" The children wailed and whined. A little girl with flaming red hair and freckles soon started to cry. The others didn't take it too well.

"See, now she's sad and it's your fault! You mean dumb cat!"

The oldest boy moved, and this time Dimitri had to actively dodge the little stone that came up sailing straight towards his nose. The other kids cheered and laughed, thrilled by the new game and all too ready to jump in as well-

"_Hey_."

The children froze in terror at the new, deep voice belonging to the man that had silently emerged by the nearby greenhouse and made his way to the group of noisy kids. On the other hand, Dimitri felt a wave of relief wash over him at once.

_Dedue!_

Indeed, the Duscur teen was there, face impassible and unreadable as ever, to anyone who wasn't Dimitri at least. To Dimitri's eyes, it was clear as day that his friend was fairly irritated. Shallow creases marred his brow and the corner of his eyes, making him appear far older than he actually was. Dimitri knew Dedue's true gentle nature too well to feel intimidated in the slightest, but he could see why most people who didn't know any better would not hesitate to give him a wide berth. As a man of Duscur origins and blood, his height alone placed him far above any average inhabitant of Fódlan, cutting a truly impressive figure for himself.

The children recoiled in fright, dropping the little pieces of gravel they had picked up from the ground. A couple of girls squeaked and hid their face in their hands.

"W-What do you want? We're doing nothing wrong!" The same kid who threw the rock and nearly hit Dimitri spoke, clearly terrified despite his poor attempts to keep his bravado act on.

Dedue frowned and crossed his arms. "You're tormenting that cat and annoying everyone with your noisy jeers. I wouldn't say you're the very epitome of innocence."

The kid scoffed haughtily. "It's just a stinking stray, who cares!"

"I do."

"Oh-oh yeah? Then you're a loser too!"

Oh, this _little_-

Before Dimitri could finish consider the pros and cons of jumping right on the little bully's head and give him a fright, however, the latter sprung up at the maximum speed his short legs could carry him and flashed past Dedue. To his credit, Dedue didn't move in the slightest, even when the kid's companions, emboldened by the success of their partner, quickly followed suit. He just stood there, immovable like a mountain, and allowed them to go scot free.

"Loser! Loser!" The kids chanted gleefully as they ran.

The first kid skidded to a stop all of a sudden, a malicious glint in his eye. He stooped low and picked another small stone off the ground.

"Duscur scum!! Big and mean and stupid beast! Can you even read?"

The pebble zipped through the air, hitting Dedue squarely in the middle of his muscular chest. It easily bounced off him and fell to the ground with a soft thud, no damage dealt in the slightest, but Dedue's eyebrows pinched upwards nonetheless, a sorrow that went far beyond mere physical injury etching lines in his prematurely sunken and withered face.

Dimitri spat. He felt his back arch up, muscles tautening in anticipation and eager to spring in action, to launch himself to the chase of the now quickly fleeing bunch of little dastards, to, to… he didn't even know _what_ he wanted to do with them in the far off chance he managed to catch up to them, but he'd make damn sure they never spat slurs at Dedue again - or _anyone_, for that matter - any time soon. Possibly never again.

But alas the ignorant kids were fast, and in the blink of an eye they were gone. Only silence was left behind in their wake, deafening and stifling.

Dedue's shoulders slumped forward, dejected.

"Children," he muttered absently, eyes fixed longingly on the corner behind which the kids had disappeared, "they're so innocent, and yet so cruel."

Dimitri could only let out a soft growl in agreement. Dedue was right, obviously; the kids probably didn't even understand in full what they were saying, what the insults they were so carelessly hurtling actually meant. It was only a matter of children parroting what the adults around them were saying, without caring for the context.

It still made Dimitri's blood boil in outrage - he always had an awfully quick temper - but he understood the point Dedue was trying to make. Blaming it on the children alone was useless.

Dedue jerked, as though he had been lost in thoughts and only now realized he was not alone. No matter how many times it happened, Dimitri would never stop finding it endearing.

"Are you alright?" Dedue asked, craning his neck up to get a better look at Dimitri, still perched upon his tree branch. "Can you get down?"

Hm, that was indeed a good question. It wasn't a particularly tall spot, but Dimitri had soon found out a cat's body was far more suited for climbing up than it was for sliding down. Leaping down in one go probably was his best bet.

As Dimitri considered his options, Dedue's attention shifted to a small pile of empty crates lying nearby, most likely waste left over by the merchant company that made Garreg Mach's courtyard its primary base of operation. He grabbed one, lifting it with considerable ease, and placed it against the tree's trunk. He climbed on it, the sturdy wood creaking slightly under his weight, and lifted his arms up. His hands hovered a couple inches below Dimitri.

"Here. I'll help you out, if you want."

The soft smile on his face as he said that would have dispelled all of Dimitri's doubts and hesitation, had there be any in the first place.

So he let go, allowing gravity to take hold and twist his body through the air as earth and sky swapped places around him…

Dedue's firm hands locked around his sides, strong and reassuring as they effortlessly halted his fall and gently lowered him down, releasing him only when Dimitri's paws were once again touching the solid ground beneath.

"There you go," he said as he hastily straightened up, hands now lying limply and awkwardly along his sides. "Be more careful from now on and avoid the greenhouse if you can. I don't want to think what might happen if people like those kids got the idea you were my friend. It's better for you not to associate with me."

Dedue's smile dimmed, sadness and longing dragging the corners of his mouth down, and Dimitri felt his heart grow heavy with emotion. So many years together, so much effort to dispel the cloud of discrimination and unjust hatred towards Dedue and his people, and still Dimitri had made no progress on his quest to bring a little more acceptance in this cruel world. Another failure, another debt he owed and will seemingly never be able to repay.

Dedue spun on his heel and started walking back towards the greenhouse he had come from. Dimitri instantly shot forward, catching up with him in a matter of seconds. Dedue's legs were so long that Dimitri had to switch to a light trot to keep up with him.

"What are you doing?"

In response, Dimitri crooned and brushed his cheek against Dedue's ankle. Dedue started, clearly caught off guard by the cat's unusual display of affection.

"You shouldn't… shouldn't do that. I might accidentally hurt you." Dedue stuttered. Dimitri would probably laugh at how adorable the ever so stern Duscur man was if he could. It had been quite some time since Dimitri had last seen him get somewhat flustered, and even then it was hardly related to pleasant circumstances. Last time he caught Dedue at a loss was when Dimitri's uncle Rufus had thrown an awful snide remark at him on his _savage_ Duscur heritage. And of course, there had been nothing Dimitri and poor Dedue could do or say in Dedue's defense; Crown Prince Dimitri might be, even he had to watch his tongue when it came to the current King Regent.

It went without saying that if Dedue hadn't extensively begged him not to react and go looking for a fight, Dimitri wouldn't have hesitated to enter a screaming match against his uncle.

Blast it, the mere memory was enough to make his blood boil once again.

He nuzzled Dedue's leg, curling his body around it.

"Meoww."

Poor Dedue looked more and more confused.

"I don't understand what you want… do you want food? I can fix up something quick for you. Is that what you wish?"

Dimitri rose to his hind legs, clawing gently at the fabric of Dedue's pant leg. At last, it seemed like Dedue finally got the message.

"Oh. You want me to… pick you up?"

"Meow!"

Dedue flashed him an awkward smile that did nothing to mask the concern in his eyes. He fell to a knee, but did not reach for Dimitri. Instead, he eyed him warily.

"I do not understand. Are you not afraid of me?"

Dimitri tilted his head, puzzled. Of course he wasn't. He could hardly think of someone kinder and more selfless than Dedue. Ashe, perhaps, but even that would be a close tie at best.

Dimitri cooed softly, and it was worth to do so if only to see the light blush dusting Dedue's cheeks as he tentatively extended an hand and gasp quietly when Dimitri rose once again to rub his head against Dedue's palm.

Dimitri made a mental note to make sure Dedue could have personal quarters worthy of him _and_ a pet to keep him company, once they made it back to Fhirdiad. The castle, gloom and cold as it quickly turned in the aftermath of the Tragedy of Duscur, could use the lighthearted distraction any way, and if it made his friend so happy as he looked now, smiling softly - genuinely and unbridled, for once - while petting Dimitri's head with clumsy but gentle fingers, then it was more than worth it. For once, a breach of propriety surely wouldn't be that much of an issue.

Eventually, Dedue rose to a standing position once again.

"I must go now. Next time, I'll make sure to bring you something to eat."

Dimitri meowed and sat back on his hind legs, fluffy tail swishing back and forth in a silent promise. He watched Dedue retreat towards the greenhouse, no doubt to tend to the saplings Professor had asked for and harvest the blooms he planted weeks ago, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, there were indeed some advantages to this cat form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original idea was to have Byleth walk in the greenhouse and find Dedue and Catmitri cuddling, but I couldn't squeeze it in T_T when writer's block decides to be a douchebag, there's nothing to be done about it, I guess T___T
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback, and pitch in some new ideas if you feel like it!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you liked it, if you didn't, if you have criticism, or even it you have suggestions for possible scenarios! I only have a few planned out atm, so I'm open to any new ideas lol
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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